


Chicken Out

by readingallaboutit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gay Chicken, M/M, Reality, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, set and written in summer of 2012 (on readingallaboutit.tumblr.com)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingallaboutit/pseuds/readingallaboutit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson playing ‘gay chicken’ and losing, hard.</p><p>(Gay chicken is like the regular game of chicken except that instead of driving at each other on a collision course, players make homosexual advances until one player will “chicken out”. However, like in the normal game of chicken, the worst result for both players is when neither chickens out - in the case of gay chicken it results in some form of homosexual act.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on readingallaboutit.tumblr.com/chickenout

Shrieks from all around the club when a LMFAO song starts playing. Harry bobs his head to the beat. On another day he might have jumped up and started dancing about crazily with the screaming girls. Not tonight though. Tonight was an all guys night. 

Yes, technically Liam had betrayed the group by inviting his girlfriend Danielle to the club. Yes, technically Niall was snogging a skinny ginger at the bar. Yes, technically Zayn was replying texts from his girlfriend every 5 seconds.

“Well this really paid off.” Louis slurps some of his vodka-sprite. “We should do this more often. Guys night.”

Harry pats his best mate’s shoulder from across the table. Their booth is in a quieter and more secluded section of the club. It’s still loud but bearable. 

“Lads, I got to take this.” With that Zayn gets up and brushes past Harry, clutching his phone.

“We’ve lost another one. Cheers!” Harry downs half of his own vodka-sprite. Louis gulps more slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Maybe I should call Eleanor. I’d love to hear her voice.”

“Yeah, do that. Then I’ll be the only survivor. I win, again.”

“What were we playing?” Louis scoffs.

“The Guysnight games.”

“I don’t get it but you didn’t win. I haven’t called her yet. And besides you could get any girl in the room.”

“But that’s not my intention. I think everybody has got to get a grip of themselves. I’m the most mature guy in the group. My relationships are the most meaningful.”

“You mean you date the oldest girls.” Louis leans on the table with an elbow, looking sloppy. 

“Nooo. I mean I care the most. I’m the nicest guy.”

“That’s true. I’ll give you that much. You’re a charmer, a ladies man.”

It’s Harry’s turn to scoff but then he laughs, feeling the alcohol take over some part of his brain that controlled humour. 

“And I couldn’t get any girl in the room. It’s a very large room and Liam is with Danielle.”

“Hm. Guess you lose then.”

“I never lose.”

“So you’re saying that you’d steal Liam’s girlfriend?”

Harry is confused by the turn the conversation took, no idea how he ended up here. 

“Would you steal Eleanor from me too?” Louis shows no real concern in his face.

“Oh, please,  _Louis_ , she’s scared of me stealing you away!”

At that Louis laughs and takes his turn at patting his best friend’s shoulder. Harry yawns a little and turns to look at the dancing crowd behind the wall of coloured glass separating their booth from the general mayhem. 

“Should we go dance?”

“Let me get really drunk, then ask me again to grind with you on the dance floor.” Louis leans back against his cushioned seat and smirks at Harry.

“I could go by myself. Get a girl, get laid, marry her, have kids.”

“Hey now, what about me?” The older guy’s eyes pop out of their sockets as he gasps, clutching the suspender where it lies over his heart. 

“You can visit on some weekends. My wife will obviously get jealous of you and me, so you can’t come by often.”

“That’s outrageous. How dare she! Get yourself a new wife, instantly.” Harry watches Louis’ eyes glint with glee. Talking like this was what Harry had missed the most. Lately there’d been too much stress and this break at home in the UK was supposed to bring back the good old times. Just him and his mates, fooling around with no pressure. This was it, his wonderful uncomplicated “bromance” with Louis was returning. No more stupid interviewers asking about their sexualities, no more cameras filming him eye-fucking Louis. 

“You tell me, mate.” Louis doesn’t break eye-contact with Harry as he downs the rest of his vodka-sprite. 

“I’ll get another round?”

“Yeah, be so kind, love.” Harry slaps Louis’ bum as he passes him and the latter wiggles it provocatively whilst moving towards the bar. 

Sliding his fingers through his hair Harry considers how long he wants to stay. There’s not much to do and he’d really rather not hook up with someone and leave Louis unattended. Who knows what the guy might do. Go home alone and sleep!

Harry pulls out his phone and starts checking his twitter. Tweets about how gay Louis and he behaved at their last concert in the US are trending again.

He reads something about how Louis whispered into his mouth. Whatever that means.

He clicks through several twitter profiles until he finds a tweet that catches his eye. First he thinks it’s some lame insult but then he reads the words again in a less jumbled brain voice. 

_#Gaychicken - I bet @Harry_Styles, @Louis_Tomlinson play gay chicken all the time. Gay chicken is da best <333 @Larry_Stylinson_is_true_love_

Whatever gay chicken was this girl seemed to like it. Harry hears a familiar song start up and within moments he’s muttering the lyrics of a Jessie J song. 

“Here you go, beautiful.” A glass is set in front of him and Louis takes place across from him again.

“Do you know what gay chicken is?” Harry asks dumbly.

“Eh, I think so. Why? Do you want to play?” Louis looks at him rather incredulously and Harry truly starts wondering what the game entails.

“So what if I do. I’m bored.”

“Yeah, me too but how far would you go because of boredom?”

“Far.” Louis seems to consider this answer. He drinks some of his new vodka-sprite. Harry follows suit. The tipsiness is in the front of his mind is strong already, very strong, powerful.

“I don’t think gay chicken is the solution.”

“I honestly don’t even know what it is.” Harry says bluntly and Louis barks out a laugh.

“Really? Why are we talking about it then?” Harry waves his phone around, he’s pretty sure Louis can figure out what he’s trying to say.

“I’ll just google it if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s a game.”

“I got as much.”

“Played by two guys.”

“Now that’s just too convenient for us. How lucky are we right now?” Harry feels through his drunken state that he wants to do something, anything to fight the drowsiness. Louis’ eyes glint with glee again and Harry wonders if he drank more than his friend. Perhaps Louis spiked his drink because he wanted to take Harry back home and ravish him. His brain joke amuses Harry and he chuckles. 

“They get closer and whoever pulls back first, loses.” The rules sound simple to Harry’s brain. Harry’s brain is a simple fellow now. Him and his brain are good pals. 

“So let’s play. I want my win.” Louis’ eyebrows rise. 

“Did you understand what I said?” Harry squints at Louis who seems to be getting smaller. As if pulling away from him but not really. Louis doesn’t ever pull away from Harry, that wouldn’t be nice.

“No.” Harry deadpans and Louis shakes his head as if to clear it from the inescapable alcohol.

“It’s like we, us, move in for the kill, eh kiss I mean,” Louis laughs heartily and Harry can’t stop himself from joining, “and whoever pulls away first wins.”

“Sounds kind of lame.” Harry analyzes. Why would gays play this game? He’d have to ask his gay friends. Was it just an excuse to make out?

“Exactly. So why don’t we just finish our drinks and get out of here?”

“To have dirty sex at home?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That beats gay chicken.”

“Actually it’s a higher stage of gay chicken. If none of the players back down, the game moves on.” Louis states nearly matter-of-factly.

“Uh, how do you know all of this?” Harry blurts out as he slurps some more of his drink.

“I just do. I don’t know why I have all this shit in my pretty head but I do. It’s bonkers, I know.”

“It’s a pretty head.” Louis smirks at that. 

“You’ve got quite the pretty head too.”

“Oh, stop it you. I’ll start blushing.” Harry laughs and watches Louis’ face also spread with mirth. 

“With that attitude you’d lose in gay chicken. Embarrassment is the enemy.” Harry musters Louis a bit.

“Have you played before?”

“I have  _not_  but I know I’d win.” Harry snorts. 

“Why is that, oh mighty one?”

“Simple: I’ve got a beard you don’t want to touch.”

“That’s a lie! A big fat lie! I love to touch your stubble!” Harry mock-protests loudly. Louis shakes his head, amused. 

“Not if you’re trying to pretend I’m a girl to win gay chicken.” Louis’ eyes are filled with glee again and Harry’s brain starts being a real friend and makes the decision. 

“Let’s play then.” Harry’s face is determined, his mind clear of doubt. There’s an odd kind of fog but it’s a pleasant one and Harry starts smiling, all dimples and happiness. Louis stares at him for a moment, calculating. 

“Let’s play.” Somewhere along the line the borders went blurry. Maybe the borders were never so steady with Louis. Harry just has to see how far he can go, anyone can go. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s more of an instinct to search for Louis’ closeness. 

Louis leans forward, resting his hands and forearms flat on the table in front of him. Harry mimics the action automatically. His hands on the left and right side of Louis’. He skids forward to sit on the edge of his seat, sitting up straight. 

“Okay. Whoever pulls back loses.” Harry repeats.

“What does the loser have to do?” Louis asks nonchalantly.

“Why so negative, Lou? It’s about what the winner gets, no?” Harry traces a finger along Louis’ hand, getting no reaction whatsoever from the other guy. Too familiar of a touch, too normal and nice. 

“There’s no touching in the game, just heads moving.” Louis explains, thinking about a prize for the triumphant. 

“Fine, fine. I hate touching you anyway.” Harry grins wholeheartedly and then he adds, “How about: the loser can’t wear underpants for a week, 2 weeks.” Louis stares into Harry’s eyes. 

“Those are high stakes. I accept the offer though. 2 weeks underpantslessness if you fail.”

“Same to you, Tomlinson.” Harry’s brain finds this whole spectacle incredibly amusing. 

“Start?” Louis asks, tentatively.

“Start.” Harry slurs out, focusing his mind on the task ahead of him, kissing/not-kissing Louis.

The younger guy leans in first, covering almost half the distance between them but Louis doesn’t shy away from that. They’ve been closer than that but the intention of kissing never lay between them. This was a joke as much as any other time but this time they actually had to aim. Actually go in for the kiss and not a hair nuzzle for fun, pretending like they were snogging. This was different from giving each other painful love bites for a lark. 

Louis licks his dry lips and Harry’s gaze falls onto the pink mouth. Harry doesn’t want to look away because he’s sure to miss some hidden sneak attack from his best friend. Then Harry registers how slowly, very slowly, Louis’ head moves towards him. Harry goes crossed-eyed for a moment as he watches everything grow larger in front of him. 

The realization that their faces, mouths are only 5 centimetres apart dawns on Harry. The thought makes its way through the clouds of alcohol. The vapours seem to lift and Harry looks up into Louis’ eyes which seem too focused. Harry can still see glee in them, mixed with something akin to fear.

His hands grasp at the table indignantly and Harry shifts his head to the right, his usual kiss position. Louis doesn’t move but his face is close and Harry can see the light stubble they talked about earlier. 

Louis licks his lips again and Harry’s eyes watch the tongue protrude outwards. The older of the two uses this moment to move another centimetre forward. They are breathing the same air now, each other’s already breathed air. Not healthy probably. 

Harry is hot, he wants to go home and shower and sleep and with a two-finger width between their mouths it feels like someone should interrupt them. It wasn’t exactly discomforting for Harry, the closeness was familiar and friendly with Louis. The goal at hand not so friendly and familiar though. 

Louis’ lips move, maybe a nervous twitch that Harry only feels. Their faces are too close and Harry can feel the air moving every time Louis’ Adam’s apple bounces, each of his nerve ends seem connected to Louis’.

His eyes search Louis’ dilated ones and something in those eyes sets him off. Maybe his own reflection, seeing himself win or something else entirely. There’s a sizzle in the air and a spark goes off. 

Harry covers Louis’ mouth with his own. There’s no girly puckering of lips, just an open-eyed sensation, shock that slowly spreads throughout Harry’s whole being causing him to quiver in his seat. 

Louis pulls away.


	2. Lesson 2

There was something about waking up in the morning with a hangover that made Louis feel like he had done something right. He didn’t think it was  _pathetic_  to stay at home on Friday nights but Louis did feel like he had accomplished something when he woke up on a Saturday morning with a throbbing head. 

“Urgh…” Someone groaned next to him and Louis felt the tiredness leave. He didn’t really want to get up, wanted to stay like this forever, snuggled under the covers, with a warm body near his. 

It hit him like a ton of bricks, crushing his organs. His eyes snapped open and he stared straight ahead recalling last night’s events. 

How he had pulled back, scared shitless by the proximity of the kiss - no, their mouths touching, not kissing! How Harry had laughed in his face and wanted Louis’ underpants gone immediately. How they had trudged out of the bar, holding each other up and somehow gotten into an empty cab. How they’d arrived home, completely wasted and exhausted and had barely found Harry’s room and jumped into bed still fully dressed. 

“Urgn…” Harry groaned again, shifting about and cuddling Louis’ arm more tightly. It was almost painful. 

Louis checked if he was really wearing all his clothes and hadn’t had some horrible blackout after all. What they had done had gone too far, as much as Louis enjoyed the teasing that was such a large part of their friendship, as much did he know that yesterday had crossed some very dangerous boundary. 

He didn’t want to think about what that boundary separated. It might not separate anything because there was nothing beyond it. Hypothetically something gay was behind it but since Louis wasn’t even  _close_  to being homosexual, the boundary should be insignificant. Why wasn’t he as rooted and strong in his own straight sexuality as Harry, who had won last night’s game and would now force Louis to go commando for 2 weeks. 

“Ah, it’s so wonderful to see your beautiful face in the morning.” Harry grinned at him through tiny, sleepy eyes. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are.”

Louis let the joke hang in the air between them for a few long moments. Harry blinked in confusion by the silence, focusing properly on Louis’ face and releasing Louis’ arm. The older of the two heaved himself up slightly and hit where he guessed Harry’s balls were. The pun was just unbearably stupid, it deserved a penis punch.

“Ow! Fuck! Louis!” The older guy fell back against the mattress, watching his curly-haired friend squirm around. “Fuck!!”

“Oh, please. The blanket took the hit.” To prove his point Louis ruffled the part of the blanket he was lying under. He pushed himself up on his elbows when Harry continued to groan in pain.

“I didn’t hit that hard, did I?” 

“You’re such a twat, Lou.” Harry turned on his back, still gripping himself under the covers. His face was a pained grimace and Louis scowled. 

“Ever heard of morning wood.” The younger guy said, wincing and Louis could see how his arms moved about, probably massaging his abused manhood. Louis felt terribly guilty and his mind raced trying to  _not_  think about Harry’s blue balls. 

“Oh… mate. I’m really sorry.” 

“I’d  _really_  appreciate it if you could never do that again.”

“I promise, Harry.”

“Really? Oh, man. All these years my balls have suffered at your hands and now you just give in to my pleadings. If I wasn’t dying right now I’d be laughing.” A grin still spread across Harry’s face through the pain and one of his hands came up to push the blanket down his torso. His blue blazer had wrinkles all over and his necklaces had knotted themselves together. 

“I  _am_  very sorry.”

“Well, don’t look at me like that. Do something.”

“What do you want me to?” Harry stared at him for a moment, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You should take care of me, stupid.”

“And… that means?” Louis sat up leaning against the headboard of Harry’s bed, fighting the urge to ask details about Harry’s nether regions, knowing it was just too soon to ask something as gay as that after last night.

“How about tea.”

“Green or Earl Grey?”

“Whichever.” Louis calmly studied Harry’s face, still partially scrunched together in pain and discomfort. Two hands came up, two hands that touched penis just moments earlier and Harry started rubbing his face. 

Louis didn’t really know what possessed him to go that far but he just went wherever the joke would lead him, never backing down from it. Alcohol did not help him, it made him entirely careless. Playing gay chicken had been mostly Louis’ fault, he was aware of that. He had made Harry interested in playing, there was only himself to blame. But still, a joke was just a joke, nothing to contemplate, just to do even if it went too far.

Harry sighed into his hands and Louis reached over and started untangling Harry’s necklaces. Two blue-green eyes peaked out from between fingers and mustered him quizzically. 

“Get up.”

“No way, I’m staying here until my blood circulates properly again.”

Instead of affectionately lifting his friend up, Louis yanked Harry upward and began removing his blazer. It reeked of alcohol and sweat and memories of yesterday.

“Well, who knew. For once I’m helpless against your onslaught and you go straight in for the kill.” Harry muttered, his eyes clenched shut. Louis smiled, remembering his own misspoken words from last night.

“Don’t get so excited, Styles.” He pulled Harry’s right arm awkwardly out of its sleeve and leaned over his best friend to do the same to the other, when Harry’s finger poked him brutally in the side. 

“What the hell!”

“You deserve that, and so much more.” Louis sighed, stripping the blue blazer off of Harry and throwing it somewhere on the floor.

“I asked you how I could make it up to you and now I’m taking care of you.”

“If you really care, then let me hit you for once.”

“In the balls?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It would only be fair.”

“The world isn’t fair.”

“…”

“You cannot be serious. I’ll just get you that tea.”

“Fine.” Sceptically, Louis took in Harry’s expression. The face still held some humour in it but the eyes were dampened by hurt, or alcohol, Louis couldn’t tell exactly.

“Are you really that mad that you’d hit me? I couldn’t stop myself earlier, it’s a reflex.”

“You might have destroyed my manliness permanently! My male ego is dead!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“How would you know. Your penis has always been treated nicely by me.” 

“I’ll go make the tea now.”

“No… let’s play chicken again.”

“Gay chicken? What? Why?” Louis was incredulous, flabbergasted. A repetition of a stupid boundary-breaking game that they had played when drunk was not a good idea in Louis’ mind, a dumb idea. Nearly every part of his brain told him to not agree to this, but there was a small voice telling him to go for it, to claim his victory, to defeat Harry who had gloated far too much for his liking. 

“It’ll boost my ego to win against you.”

“We could play Uno or Ludo.”

“Good ideas, very good ideas, Lou, but it’ll be better to make you look as unmanly as you did yesterday.”

“No, thanks.”

“So, you’re saying you’d rather be punc–”

“I think your brain was affected and not your penis.”

“In a way it was. You said so often, us guys, we think with the penis.” Louis considered Harry whose face was stretched into a happy grin, dimples very present. 

“If you won, you’d let us return to normal.”

“Yes, I’ll most likely forget you harming me this severely.” Harry laughed and Louis couldn’t help himself from joining in, rubbing the spot Harry had poked earlier. “But do not just let me win. You should put more effort into it than last night.”

“Oh, yes, sorry I didn’t act gayer for you.” Louis felt his face twitch, whether it was annoyance or amusement, he couldn’t tell, he was confused. 

“I should feel insulted, really. You rejected me but you always say that I’m totally dateable. Such a liar.”

“Oh please, you know I  _wanted_  it. I was just concerned by who would have seen us.”

“Excellent. Now we’re alone, let’s do it.”

“Fine.” The words spilled out of Louis’ mouth and his brain registered a moment later that he meant them. He wasn’t afraid of his sexuality,  _why_  would he be? There was no reason for a heterosexual male to be scared of playing gay chicken. Breathing in and regaining all of his confidence, he smirked and said, “Different variant from yesterday though.”

“Good. I want to use my hands.”

“Great.”

“Anything above the waist, my lower parts aren’t ready for your brutal manhandling again.” Louis pushed the words away from himself, he tried to not let them sink in. How far would Harry really take this game, why were they playing anyway? The small voice in his head told him everything was fine, fun. This was just a new way of having fun, a more risky sort of fun.

Shifting himself, Louis sat at Harry’s side. 

“You’ll just keep lying there?”

“I know it puts me in a bit of a disadvantage but I’m really not feeling like moving.” Something in his tone had changed, maybe he was re-evaluating if he should be doing this, it had gotten lower.

“Start?” Harry asked, his eyes held Louis’ steadily, there was no backing out anymore.

“Start.” Louis mumbled, feeling the events of last night play through his mind, feeling the rush of it all. He felt like he was betraying himself for looking forward to the anxious fear he had felt yesterday.

Harry reached up to him and a warm hand landed on Louis’ cheek. It started caressing him and Louis became aware of his facial hair having grown much more overnight, and of the fact that Harry had been touching his own penis with that hand minutes ago. 

Louis own right hand went for Harry’s ribcage and started lightly drawing nothings on the white shirt covering sweaty skin. Their eye contact was broken when Harry’s gaze followed his own hand tracing lines down Louis’ neck. He was grinning broadly and Louis wasn’t disturbed by the on-goings. Perhaps it was because it was all just a game, a prank or perhaps Harry was just his best friend and that anything they did together was right.

When Harry gripped the front of Louis’ striped shirt harshly, pulling him down to hover in midair, Louis realized just how natural messing around with Harry had always been. It was always fun and games and Louis smirked before he dug his left hand into curled hair and latched himself onto Harry’s neck, giving the younger lad a wet, juicy love bite. 

Instead of trying to rid himself of Louis, Harry seemed to be in full control of his actions and gripped Louis’ sides, pulling him down quickly, urgently. Their fronts touched and Harry started breathing into Louis’ ear. The older of the two stopped sucking skin and let himself feel the hot breath against his ear as he breathed against the red mark he had left. The hands at his sides didn’t have him in a vice-grip but a loose hold, lovingly.

Louis knew something was off, terribly wrong. The small voice in his head was suddenly loud and clear and screaming at him, shouting so ferociously for him to recopriate, by letting the hand on Harry’s chest roam around or by doing things that were too blurry in Louis’ mind. Too foreign, alien for him to understand.

Upon feeling his second brain between his legs react to these happening, Louis removed himself from atop Harry. The curls on his head were messy and sticking to all sides, dimples cut deeply around a huge laughing mouth. 

Louis jumped up and started walking out of the room, even though he knew that wasn’t a great response to have if he tried to prove to himself and the world that his body had no reaction whatsoever to Harry. None at all.

“You can get me that tea now, sugarlips.”

A dangerously charming laugh followed Louis to the kitchen and try as he might, he wouldn’t ever be able to get that laugh or its owner out of his mind, his system. 

“And lose your knickers already!”


	3. Lesson 3

The past few days had been the best in Harry’s life, major blast, fucking awesome. 

“Okay, then, I think I asked everything I wanted. Got lots of fantastic Larry Stylinson moments, so thank you very, very much!” Harry grins at the Sugarscape reporter who was more unsubtle than ever with her questions about Boobear’s and Hazza’s eternal love. He answered all of them happily, making sure to have as much physical contact with Louis as possible. Stroking Louis’ arms, gripping Louis’ legs, ruffling the material of Louis’ pants. 

“Pleasure was on our side.” The One Direction boys stand up and position themselves for a parting snapshot. Louis moves quickly to stand between Zayn and Niall and Harry just smirks as he pushes Niall out of the way. He readjusts his beanie as he grins at the frowning oldest guy of the group.

“Cheese everyone.” The photographer says and within the first few flashes Harry places his right hand on Louis’ penis like in so many photo shoots in the past. This time at the touch, much like over the past few days, Louis jerks his body away from Harry’s and nearly falls over the chair behind him. Harry laughs as Louis glares at him with menace and storms out of the room. 

“I’ll be right back, poor little Lou didn’t sleep well tonight.” Harry grins and follows the older guy who has a little bit of a problem in his pants.

When Harry catches up to Louis the sweatpants clad guy is fuming.

“Enough. You have got to stop doing that.”

“What?” Harry tries to ask innocently but there’s a small twitch in his lips and he purposely looks very obviously at Louis’ crotch area. 

“I’m fed up with you. I don’t know why I’m keeping this bet up.”

“Because you’re a man of your word.”

“Well, I’ve had enough of it. As soon as we get home you’ll give me back all my underpants.”

“I really can’t do that. It’s a wager you lost.”

“Your torment is not helping me at all.”

“Don’t let it affect you.”

“Why don’t you try it.”

“I have.”

“In your lousy jeans things might be fine.”

“Then why are you wearing sweatpants? The material is so soft, so pleasant against your boner. Best of friction.”

“Shut up you prick!” Harry shrugs, understanding that Louis was more than a little mad but still believing that it was superbly fun.

“A bet is a bet.”

“Then let’s play that again.”

“You want to?” Louis’ eyes bore into his own and Harry is almost scared of the answer. The sparks, the combustion he felt the 2 previous times they indulged in the game still lingered in the air around Harry whenever he was near Louis.

“Isn’t it bound to lead there again?”

“I actually thought we were done with that.”

“We’re not. One last time, to get my briefs back.”

“It almost sounds like you want to do gay stuff with me.” It’s something he shouldn’t have said. The game is just a game for 2 heterosexual blokes to get into each other’s heads. Some might say it is just an excuse to get into each other’s pants but Harry knows better. He doesn’t want to play Gay chicken, doesn’t want to think about actually wanting to play it. A fog starts clouding Harry’s mind as he thinks about how thrilling playing had been, how it was out-worldly and unexpected like nothing he had ever experienced. It is truly terrifying. 

“Shut it, Styles. I’m very close to losing it.”

“I guess we could go for a third and final round. But if I win things could get worse for you.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“If you say so.”

“No restrictions this time, whoever chickens out first loses.”

“Alright.” Insecurity is fully visible on his face, he can feel it. Harry isn’t afraid of playing but he knows he should be and that right there is the terrifying part. 

“Are you having second thoughts? Then just let me wear underpants again. I really can’t deal with this. Every breeze, any movement my pants make pushes me towards public inappropriateness.” Louis moves his arms around wildly, illustrating just how frustrated he was. 

“I know. I just add salt to the wound, or wood to the fire I guess, by acting so inhumane. I can hear you wanking in our bathroom you know, it sounds really desperate.”

“You’ve been listening to me on the bathroom?”

“No. But when you moan and groan loudly for hours every night, I’ll hear it.”

“…”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“I’m not. It’s your entire fault anyways.”

“I accept my blame! I do feel guilty. So let’s play and then we’re done with all of it.”

“I would love to just move back to how things used to be with underpants. I can barely remember what it feels like to be protected.”

“My hand was protecting you well enough earlier.”

“…”

“Yeah, sorry. Start?”

“Start.”

Louis’ hand shoots out and immediately grabs his clothed penis. Harry almost lets out a snort, did Louis really think he would just back away from such an insignificant touch? He had much more control over his body than that. 

The younger of the two steps closer to the other and his hands reach out to lie on the waistband of loose sweatpants. He slowly starts to move his fingers along the edge of the material, dipping his fingers between shirt and pants and grazing skin very lightly.

Harry looks into the glinting blue eyes of his best friend and can’t help but slyly grin at the embarrassment that’s showing there. Louis’ mouth is pressed into a thin line and it seems as though he’s biting the insides of his cheeks. The hand on Harry’s package doesn’t move.

With one shaky motion Harry pulls the sweats down and he starts laughing when he sees Louis wince, convinced that he just won another round. But Louis’ gaze is lifted to the ceiling, his neck flushed and still standing there with his pants around his ankles. Louis’ penis is half-erect and Harry realizes that Louis won’t give in today because he needs his underpants back. Without them he gets a boner at the slightest movement and Harry doesn’t help by constantly grabbing at it. 

Harry understands all that now and he feels like he should just step back and let Louis win. But wouldn’t Louis know that he gave in? Would that make him look like a funk, a fraidy-cat? His brain doesn’t know the answer, producing only blurry thoughts and he can only continue to stare at Louis’ dick.

It’s still the same penis he remembers Louis having. It’s not soft though which is weird and his brain doesn’t quite comprehend the fact. Harry stares at it like it’s a foreign and dangerous object but it isn’t all that unfamiliar, is it? He himself has one of the kind and he’s seen others’ so often too. But not in a hardened state, he adds on to his thoughts. 

Nonetheless he reaches forward again, not intent on simply letting Louis believe that Harry would be freaked out by a penis that easily. His hand touches Louis’ hairy thigh and the older lad’s head snaps around. Their eyes meet again and Harry knows that Louis’ fear is mirrored in his own eyes now. He still somehow manages to stupidly grin as he lets his hand and eyes wander up the warm thigh.

Harry watches Louis’ dick twitch and halts his movements again. He sees pulsing veins and the crooked form and it’s a penis alright. Just a penis, like his own, nothing to it. Didn’t kill Harry or his past girlfriends to touch his own and Louis and Eleanor also seem to survive having touched Louis’. Indeed, Louis is very much alive, with a pulsating penis pointing away from his body.

Pointing at Harry, motioning him to come closer, luring him in with its strangeness. In 18 years of being on this planet Harry has never had a good look at an erect penis. Now that he does he can’t form coherent thoughts regarding it.

Louis’ hand, that cups his own penis, moves and starts unzipping his jeans. That usually wouldn’t go beyond Harry’s comfort zone but now it does, now it suddenly does and the only way that he knows how to react is by grasping Louis’ thing.

It’s not entirely wrong, not completely un-right to hold another guy’s cock in his hand. It feels more like the world turned upside because his grip is the wrong way around. Louis’ dick is thick and large but still smaller and shorter than his own. At that stupid thought of comparing penises Harry lets out a low chuckle and he hears how Louis releases a breezy laugh as well. 

Harry looks up and Louis’ head is facing the wall, unwilling to meet Harry’s weak gaze. His hand slides up from the base of Louis’ cock and his other hand, which hung at his side uselessly and jittery for the past minutes, holds the base still. Harry struggles to keep his eyes on Louis’ face and not look down at his own hands. He doesn’t really know if watching Louis’ strained face isn’t kind of worse but all of this is so bonkers already. Completely bonkers and Harry doesn’t stop.

Both his hands are sliding carefully, tentatively up and down the sides of Louis’ hard-on, feeling like he forgot how masturbation works. Louis’ hand still rests on Harry’s clothed dick and he becomes more and more aware of the hand with every passing second. It’s irrational, absolutely illogical to want this mind-buzzing thrill, but Harry won’t stop. 

Vaguely Harry remembers that he shouldn’t even be trying to win if he was a real pal to Louis but there’s the fog and all his thoughts are just blurry and stupid. His hands still slightly, his left hand wraps around Louis’ boner, squeezing, tugging hard and his right hand swipes over the bell-end, over Louis’ pre-cum glistening penis head.

Louis grunts and his eyes close, his whole body shivers once, twice, thrice and Harry pulls his hands away, steps away. Slowly something clicks, registers in his head and everything becomes more focused, clear before him. 

Harry stares at Louis’ hunched over form, holding himself up on the wall with one hand whilst holding his dick in the other. The face wears the expression of pure bliss and Harry chokes a little at the sight. Turning around he runs down the corridor, far away from his best friend who just had an orgasm because of Harry’s own hands.

Sprinting past doors, windows, plants, people Harry frantically tries to erase the image from his brain. It’s so present, so close, so graspable in his mind. Harry slams into a wall when he doesn’t manage to make it around a corner properly. He slides down the wall and forces his body to stop the erratic heartbeat, to force away the memory of Louis like that.

Noticing that his fly is open, Harry closes it with a gasp. He feels that his hands are full of something white and sticky and his eyes shut before he can inspect it. He curses, knowing he can’t get rid of the painful pressure in his pants right now, cannot give in to the blissful pleasure in this very moment because if he did, he would be jerking off to images of his best mate.


	4. Lesson 4

The past few days had been the worst in Louis’ life, absolute hell, fucking horrible. 

Louis had barely seen Harry and his whole body was telling him that this sucked. His legs wanted to run to Harry, his arms wanted to hug Harry, his hands wanted to touch Harry, his lungs wanted to breathe Harry and his heart wanted to feel Harry next to him.

But his best mate wasn’t around. Since the  _incident_  Harry hadn’t come to their shared flat, had sat far away from Louis in interviews and avoided any conversation Louis had tried to start up. Harry had really just run away like a little girl at any opportunity. 

Then again maybe Louis himself was overreacting and acting like a girl for worrying about Harry this much, for missing Harry this much. But how could he not? Harry was his best friend, the person he was closest with, his undramatic counterpart to his own crazy antics. 

Louis’ brain told him to just wait it out, to just let Harry calm down and get over it, because it wasn’t a big deal. It was only a game, a joke and it had escalated and Harry would get over himself and everything would be normal again. They had pushed each other’s buttons and something had gone off. 

The small voice in Louis’ brain reminded him that Harry had  _gotten_  Louis off, that he had used Harry’s helping hands very willingly. 

Louis cursed under his breath as he turned the keys and opened the door to his flat and found Harry standing with his hand hovering in the air, trying to reach for the now opened door. Harry’s eyes were as big as saucers and his trunk stood next to him.

“Hi.”

“Uh… Hey.” Harry looked at the floor, the door, his trunk, the door, the floor but decidedly dodged meeting Louis’ eyes. 

“Are you leaving for the airport already?”

“I thought you were with El.” The words seemed to spill out of Harry’s mouth in a manner that made Louis think that Harry  _really_  wanted Louis out of his sight.

“I was.”

“…”

“Were you planning on sneaking about like this for much longer?” Louis’ own throat was dry and he realized nothing was alright between him and Harry. He was fooling himself if he thought he could just wait this one out. This wasn’t a prank gone wrong, this was serious and they had to talk about it. Clear up the misunderstanding, the misconception that Harry had turned Louis on. 

It was just physical attention that had come to his nether regions and he was young and these things happened. He had always gotten hard-ons at the most inconvenient times around the lads, around Harry often. That’s just puberty and Louis was a sensitive guy, but he hadn’t actually _enjoyed_  it. He hadn’t, he lied to himself. 

“… I… I’m going to go now. See you on the flight later.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Harry tried sidestepping Louis, tried to not even as much as graze Louis with his shoulder but Louis grabbed his arm and held him in place. He could feel the muscles of the younger boy go rigid under his touch. 

“Harry.” Louis heard himself hiss out the name, a rather pathetic hiss.

“Lou. Please. Let go.” The words stung, they popped holes into Louis’ lungs and his heart deflated. 

“Harry. We have to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yeah, we do!” Harry was still averting Louis’ eyes, he looked everywhere but at Louis. 

“…”

“I don’t even know why you’re avoiding me!” The nonsense just sputtered out of Louis’ mouth before he could stop himself. Pretending to be dumb, ignorant, nonplussed and  _so cool_  with the situation was the way to go, Louis told himself. 2 straight guys played a game and they would be cool about it, really  _cool_ about it.

“Eh?” Harry turned his head and met Louis’ eyes, bewildered. Louis could almost hear the thinking wheels in Harry’s brain start spinning, trying to come up with a reaction, a retort, anything to Louis’  _cool_  demeanour. He wished so badly for Harry to accept that Louis was an oblivious fool and laugh and make Louis’ heart unclench. 

“I had your gravy on my hands, mate.” The words sounded sour and brought the memories from that afternoon back very vividly. Louis let go of Harry and found himself grow queasy because he understood now that Harry hated him, was repulsed by him. Where had the fucking borders gone that should have prevented what had happened last time? Why had there been no boundaries to stop Louis from ejaculating into Harry’s fucking hands, from even letting it get that far?

Harry pushed past Louis and wasn’t stopped. The taller guy tugged his trunk along behind him and made his way down the staircase. The loud banging the trunk made against the tiles was awfully harmful and aggressive like Harry was blaming the stairs. Louis watched his best friend descend more steps and walk further away. 

“So what?!” The small voice in his head provided the words for his mouth to speak but Louis was unable to come to terms what they even meant. Louis’ own eyes were clenched shut as he tried to make sense of how he had lost his best mate. 

“Excuse me?”

“So what? We played gay chicken, stuff like that happens. It’s not issue. I’m not concerned by it at all. I don’t understand why you’d be affected.” Louis couldn’t fathom how this small voice had the power to take away his speech but it seemed to be doing some repairing to the damage that Louis had created. 

“You’re not … freaked out, I mean, you’re not … what happened was cree… it’s just crazy.” Harry stared at Louis, his eyes blinking. The younger lad’s head started shaking as Harry readjusted his mop of messy hair. 

“There’s nothing to be weird about. It was part of the game. It has no impact on the rest of our lives.” Louis tried to keep his voice from stuttering, from giving in to the panic because what happened had very much impacted his life. 

Having finally met up with El today after rescheduling so often, Louis had felt completely uneasy around her. He had left her in a Starbucks, saying he had to go to the airport earlier than expected after all. The joy of seeing her, having someone, who loved him, so close again wasn’t there. On the one hand his thoughts were clouded because Harry hadn’t been with him the past few days and on the other hand Louis felt like he had cheated on Eleanor. 

But if Louis thought he had cheated on her that meant that what had happened between Harry and himself was what made him feel like he had betrayed El. Louis’ heart was stabbed again rapidly by an invisible force and he really felt like he deserved his best friend back, to talk to Harry about the trivial and yet so important matters of life such as food, football and quite possibly about the gyms in his Pokémon game that Louis had gotten stuck in.

“I missed you.” Louis spoke with more conviction and confidence. This whole situation was entirely messed up. He hadn’t cheated on El, he hadn’t cheated on her with Harry. It was a  _preposterous_ thought and Louis forcefully pushed the ridiculous notion out of his head again. He brushed away anything potentially harmful to his straight relationship with his girlfriend and his brotherly friendship with Harry. 

“I missed you too, Louis.” Harry wore a scowl on his face, his eyebrows were furrowed but after a few moments it turned into a tiny but very sincere smile.

A jolt shot through Louis’ body and he sprinted down the stairs and embraced Harry. The younger guy seemed to have expected it, seemed to have awaited the closeness as much as Louis had. The hug was fierce and they both wanted it, needed it. Too long had the two been from each other, the past few days had been  _unnatural_ , Louis realized. It was unnatural to be away from Harry and Louis gripped the fabric of the taller guy’s black t-shirt more tightly. Closer, he needed to be closer. 

“I wish you’d told me earlier to just let it go.” 

“You wouldn’t let me.”

“I thought, well, I guess, uhm.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing.”

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled into Louis’ shoulder and then took a step back. Louis wanted to be confident and laid-back about this, he didn’t want Harry to be offended by Louis anymore. In order for that to  _completely_  happen, Louis had to convey to Harry that it was game, that gay chicken was a game and nothing more.

“Nothing’s happened, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” A half-grin was plastered on Harry’s face and the small voice in Louis’ mind told him to prove to himself just how  _friendly_  he was with Harry.

“We could play it again and nothing would change.” A confused frown crossed Harry’s face but Louis didn’t want to realize how stupid his words sounded, so he babbled on. 

“It’s just a game. You shouldn’t be scared of it. If it does then it means you’re insecure with –“

“With my sexuality. Yes, and I’m not.” Something flashed through Harry’s eyes, it was dark but not angry. Louis didn’t understand Harry’s expression or the conversation they were having, but the small voice in his mind was giggling gleefully. 

“So, there’s no problem with playing gay chicken. It’s just a game.”

“Agreed.”

“We could play right now.” Louis was so astounded by his own words, actually terrified by what he was doing. Was he actually initiating another round? Did he really want to play or did he simply search for Harry’s closeness? Both, the small voice replied helpfully. 

“It’s a possibility.”

“Why not then?”

“We can prove just how little we care.”

“This game doesn’t affect us at all.” Oh, the game affects you very much, you little lying Lou, the older guy thought to himself. But what about Harry? Was he freaked out or was he up for pushing each other’s buttons again? Was Louis own anticipation mirrored in Harry’s eyes or was Harry going to smack Louis and laugh? 

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Start?”

“Start.” Louis answered and he took a step forward and Harry did the same, it was an instinct, like they both knew exactly what to do. When their mouths connected it wasn’t soft or rough but it was  _hungry_. Harry’s hands grabbed his shirt and his hair and Louis’ hands did the same. It was a hunger that took them over and Louis really hoped it was mutual. His eyes had closed and the fear, the thrill was there again, making his body quake with folly, fantastic folly. 

Their mouths moved against each other and shock waves rushed through Louis’ heart. The small voice in his head was ecstatic. He could feel one of Harry’s hands untangle themselves from his shirt front and for a moment Louis was frightened that this fearful adventure would end. The hand reappeared at Louis’ hip, gripping him there and pushing him backwards. His back hit the wall and Louis leaned back tilting his head against the wall. 

Harry’s lips were incredibly warm and marvellous and Louis let his hands slide further into the thick hair on Harry’s head. Louis’ own head was tilted up in that perfect angle and Harry didn’t seem uncomfortable either. 

A slight wetness touched Louis’ lips and he gasped, taken by surprise. Harry froze, their mouths disconnected and Louis’ eyes flew open. Harry’s face was in riddles, his eyes searching Louis’, for what Louis did not know. Harry licked his lips, shifted his eyes to the side and took a step away from Louis. 

“No. Don’t.” The words came out of Louis’ burning lips in a quick huff. He grabbed Harry’s shirt and pulled him forward, sliding one hand up his neck into his wonderful hair again. Louis crashed their mouths together, keeping his partially agape and let his tongue invade Harry’s mouth. 

It felt incredibly intimate and surreal when their tongues met and the small voice in Louis’ head was loud and clear as it spoke through Louis’ layer of very pleasant feelings, he was snogging Harry. And Louis didn’t really mind.

The younger guy pressed closer, both his hands on Louis’ hips and angled his head so their mouths could continue their interaction in an even more amazing way. Louis was on fire and everything felt like a haze, a Harry haze.

Louis wasn’t the one to pull away, he would have never, but when they did separate he noticed how dearly he needed oxygen, how his brain wasn’t working but for that encouraging voice that was no longer tiny. 

Harry was breathing against his neck heavily and Louis was embarrassed because Harry could probably hear his heart racing at a horribly fast rate.

“I really think. I should go. Now.” Puffs of fiery air hit Louis’ neck as Harry spoke the words in an even slower manner than his usual speed. 

“Yeah. I need to pack too.”

“Great.”

“…”

“…”

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to let me go, to get to the flat.”

“Uhr, right, sorry.” Harry pulled back and a grin was plastered on his face. Louis smiled back broadly and both of them started laughing. Everything was alright, back to normal. 

“I’ll go ahead already and tell the others the flamboyant Tomlinson still has to pick all the pretty clothes he’ll take to Ireland.”

“Fuck you, Styles.”

“With pleasure, you twat.” Harry grabbed his trunk and started jumping down the staircase.

Louis smiled before climbing up towards their flat’s door. There was an odd crash and then he heard Harry bolting up the stairs, peaking up through the railing from a floor down. 

“See you at the airport, bye.” Harry smiled at Louis, his dimples glowing and his fringe a complete disheveled mess but started skipping down the steps again before Louis could call him out on his post-snog state. 

“Bye, Harry.” Louis laughed heartily as he felt his chest soften even further, the haziness in his mind was peaceful and calming. Everything was alright with Harry again, right? Or was something wrong? Had he just kissed Harry and enjoyed it? Didn’t mean anything, right? That was the pre-game established, right? What was so bad about feeling this good?

The small voice in his mind soothed any doubts he had for the moment, making Louis believe that Harry and him were perfectly fine now.

It also informed him that there was no way in the Underworld that they  _wouldn’t_  play another round of gay chicken. And still feeling Harry so close to him, Louis didn’t really mind. 


	5. Lesson 5

As Harry opens the door to his room in the inn in Mullingar, Ireland, he expects Louis to still be there. And his best mate is there on Harry’s bed, still skyping with his girlfriend. 

Niall had taken the guys out to some pub he was never allowed in when he was younger and there One Direction had finally had their guys’ night. Harry was incredibly glad to just sit and talk about the good old times before the stardom, and the Guinness tasted good and made him just the right kind of pissed. 

Not tipsy enough to ignore the fact that Louis had decided he’d rather talk to his precious girlfriend for hours. Louis had simply refused to come with the lads and Harry isn’t really disappointed but his slightly drunk brain tells him that he’s  _jealous_.

“Hey Harry.” Louis says without looking up.

“Pff.” Harry staggers into the room and throws himself half on Louis who’s lying on his stomach staring into his webcam. “Eleanooor. What’s up, babe?” 

“Hiii Harry! Good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry that I didn’t go with Louis to meet you yesterday. I had to pack.” Harry presses his right elbow into Louis’ back and the older guy grunts and turns his head to fake-smile at Harry. 

“That’s just fine.” Eleanor is sitting at a desk, looking incredibly tired. 

“So you’re  _really_  not mad at me for leaving so soon?” Louis asks, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them.

“No, no, it’s fine.” She starts fiddling with her hair and Harry gets the feeling that she’s upset after all. Harry himself is rather fond of the idea that Louis ditched his girlfriend prematurely on their date yesterday. 

“I think we should all get some beauty rest, it’s past 2.” Harry offers, ruffling Louis’ hair and smiling into the webcam. 

“Yeah, good thinking. I must look like hell anyways.”

“No, you look gorgeous, always.” Louis whispers sweetly and smacks his lips, sending a kiss towards his laptop.

“You too, darling.” Eleanor replies huskily, her eyes flutter in that feminine way and suddenly Harry remembers his girlfriendless state, his sex-deprived state.

“He’s the most gorgeous thing, isn’t he?” Harry grabs Louis head and puts a big smooch on his cheek. 

“Awww, you boys are so cute. We’ll talk tomorrow?” Louis wiggles his head out of Harry’s grasp and nods his head, gazing into the webcam charmingly. 

“Bye, El.” Eleanor waves and then the video call is over and Louis shuts his laptop, burying his head into the duvet.

“You miss her after one day already?”

“No, not really.”

“You’re not going to start crying, right?”

“Ha, ha, ha, no. It just sucks that I won’t see her in person for so long.”

“Because of the sex.”

“Well…”

“If you hadn’t left her yesterday we couldn’t have made up. So it’s kind of good unless of course our friendship doesn’t really matter as much.”

“Oh come on, who are you trying to fool? You’re just trying to get me to say how much I hated not being around you for three days.”

Harry laughs and rolls off of Louis, twisting his body and lying on his back, staring at the green ceiling.

“You’re lucky that you have her.” Harry says the words and his tipsy mind tells him he doesn’t actually mean them. Maybe he’s jealous of Louis having a girlfriend. Maybe.

“I’m luckier to have you, I think.” The words are hushed and mumbled. Louis is facing away from Harry but his voice still rings clearly in the darkened room. 

“Who would have guessed that?” Harry muses, smiling sweetly and unbuttoning his grey trousers. “You’re not planning on staying in my room, are you? This bed can’t really hold us both.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m going to sleep in the nude tonight.”

“Don’t care.”

“I’ll sleep on top of you.”

“Don’t care.” Harry can hear the smile in Louis’ voice.

“So you really don’t want to stay alone after that  _heartbreaking_  conversation with your pretty girlfriend?”

“Mhm.”

“Your choice.” Harry sits up and pulls his Train shirt over his head, he readjusts his hair and leans down to untie his Chucks. “I wouldn’t want to disturb your grieving.” 

“Thanks.”

“It’s not like I want to have a good night’s rest after worrying for nights whether we’ll ever be friends again.” Harry throws his Chucks next to the door and stands up, he pulls his pants down and removes his, hopefully not as stinky as Louis’, socks. 

“You really know how to strip. You can take 5 quid from my wallet for that performance.” Harry turns around to see Louis has shifted his head and is watching him sleepily. The younger guy grins before pulling at the blanket and brutally throwing Louis off of the bed.

“What the fuck, Harry!” Louis screams as he lands on the floor, glaring up at Harry who plops down on his bed and sighs.

“Ah, I’m truly living the good life.” Harry folds his arms behind his head and watches the green ceiling above him spin in slow circles, the alcohol in his system tries to act up again. 

“You’re a cunt.”

“That’s good because you love pussy.”

“I won’t like you one bit anymore if you throw me off the bed another time.” Louis glowers as he scrambles up and sits himself down cross-legged next to Harry’s lying form.

“Isn’t this a bit of déjà-vu?” Harry can see the realization set in on Louis’ face and he laughs. Louis grins too but it’s reserved and squeamish, probably because he lost that round, the second round of gay chicken they played, the one after he had punched Harry in the willy. 

At first Harry was really confused when the older guy acted like Harry wanking Louis hadn’t happened just days ago but then he had come to the conclusion that Louis was  _really_  perfectly fine with it. And Harry wouldn’t be bested at being perfectly fine with slightly gay occurrences. 

“We have an even score now, don’t we?” When Harry speaks, Louis raises his eyebrows and rearranges his fringe. 

“I suppose so.”

“Okay, that’s good then.” Harry says with a laugh and closes his eyes, rather content with the slight buzzing in his brain that the alcohol causes. He feels a shift of weight on the mattress and hopes Louis will lie close to him, sharing body heat or just being there. Harry wants Louis near, that’d be nice. 

When Harry feels something tugging at his boxers, he remembers monsters that scare little kids to gain electricity. His reflexes react immediately and Harry’s hands shoot out and grip the wrists of his best mate. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks cautiously, not knowing what to make of this. Does Louis want to play gay chicken or is Harry forcing him because he has a little bit of an erection? Are Harry’s words the trigger for Louis’ actions? Harry opens his eyes and looks at his best friend. 

“Ehm.” Louis’ expression is terrifyingly unsure, verging on becoming horrified and his hands release the waistband of Harry’s boxers with a snap. Louis tries to back away and suddenly Harry feels terrified because it’s just so fucking  _terrifying_.

“You didn’t say  _Start_.” Harry speaks the words in a murmur but they ring clearly throughout the room. The atmosphere changes and something ignites, fog and sparks cloud Harry’s vision. He’s smirking as Louis’ head swivels back and their eyes meet. 

“I’m trying to repay you for a favour but you get mixed up with technicalities.” Louis huffs but there’s still uncertainness written in his features. Harry grips Louis’ wrists more tightly and tries to make his own smile sincere, to show Louis that Harry isn’t pushing him away. Quite the opposite, showing him that he can play gay chicken and be  _chill_  about it.

“I’ll forgive you this once.” 

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

“Start?”

“I don’t really know. Can I trust you with my knob?”

“I’ll try my best.” Louis’ grinning now and Harry chuckles because this is crazy, maybe.

“Start then.” Harry releases Louis from his hold and the older guy huffs loudly, it almost sounds like a sigh of relief. Louis pulls Harry’s boxers down to his knees and there’s a tense pause before Louis’ right hand wraps around his penis. Harry nearly gets a heart attack when he thinks that Louis is going to chicken out and he receives another much better and exciting heart attack when Louis does indeed start pumping his dick. 

Harry wonders if Louis knows how good he’s making Harry feel. Louis should  _not_  know but Harry is moaning and shifting his hips around like a complete twat. He doesn’t want to admit that this is probably the best thing that’s happened to him since that mind-blowing snog yesterday. How was that even possible – how could Louis be such a good kisser? Such a good  _toucher_?

“Fuck.”

“And you always tell everyone you don’t swear.” Louis’ voice is so sexy, Harry wonders how not everybody is turned on by it. A sweat bead rolls down Louis’ temple and all Harry can do is watch as it runs down the side of the older lad’s face. But Harry leans upwards anyways and is so relieved when Louis meets him halfway. 

This time the kiss feels less extreme than last time but it’s still too amazing and Harry pants into Louis’ mouth. It’s so sloppy when their tongues work against each other and Harry feels Louis’ soft stubble scratching against his face. There’s no way Harry can pretend this is a girl he’s doing this with right now. 

Louis shifts his weight around and his left hand reaches into Harry’s hair. The sensation is terribly pleasant, the tugging of his hair intensifies this whole experience and Harry unclenches his fists and pulls Louis down by the waist. 

Harry’s sweaty upper body comes in contact with the American flag t-shirt the two of them share and it’s like their bodies should stick together like this. Like this is  _right_. 

The boiling sensation in his penis grows and Harry forces, with all his remaining mind-power his arms to push Louis off of him. Harry’s back arches as he rolls his underpants up desperately. He stares at the freaky green ceiling instead of Louis when his spunk shoots into the black material of his boxers. 

The silence that settles is awkward because Harry feels like he can’t come down from his high, as if there’s some second orgasm waiting right around the corner. 

“Guess I won, again.” Harry turns his head and Louis is kneeling on the bed, his hands in his lap, his face red and a broad smirk stretches his swollen mouth. 

“Just shut up, Louis.” A laugh escapes Harry and Louis gets up to pick up the blanket, still lying in a pile on the floor from earlier. Harry watches Louis’ back for a moment, he can hear a grunt come from the older guy who seems to be readjusting the front of his pants and Harry wonders if Louis was turned on. Hope so, wouldn’t want to be the only one, Harry thinks but he doesn’t ask Louis because the game is over and it’s back to normality. 

Harry slips off the bed, somewhat wipes himself clean with his boxers before discarding them and throwing them near his trunk. Disgusting, but nobody here is going to get pregnant anyway.

He turns around and Louis throws the blanket at him. The two of them stand there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Harry walks back to the bed and lies down, covering himself with the duvet.

“Good night then.”, Louis says, it sounds rather desolate but Harry is feeling tired to ask about it. The blurriness has grown and it envelopes him. Cuddling would be so nice now.

“Night.” He manages to stammer out but doesn’t voice his opinion on sleeping with Louis. 

Harry hears light footfalls and just grumbles out some syllables as he feels a familiar body crawl under the covers next to him. The last thing Harry does is chuckle lowly as he snuggles his face into Louis’ still clothed shoulder, then sleep takes him and Louis to other frisky adventures. 


	6. Lesson 6

The music blasting from the speakers at the garden party was just as loud on the street as it was within the tent. The song currently playing had Katy Perry complaining about how hard it was being a teenager, having to put make-up on and wear skin-tight jeans. 

Louis readjusted his braces as Harry and he struggled to make their way from the party to their inn. Niall’s old friends had thrown the surprise bash on the last night One Direction would be staying in Ireland and Niall had gotten  _so_  drunk. Last Louis had seen him was hours ago with a dark-haired girl who had lost her top. Liam and Zayn were nowhere to be found, they might have gone to the inn already, they might have still been at the party somewhere, who cared. Not Louis, not right now.

Harry’s head was facing the ground, watching his own feet drag over the pavement. Louis was disorientated but he knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t going to vomit. He really hoped the same was true for his best friend who was clinging to him. 

“Lots of great gals at the party.” Louis stiffened and stopped his slow trot on the pavement. His brain couldn’t come up with a good retort. 

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should go back.”

“And shag some slag?” The small voice in his head word-vomited on Louis’ behalf. 

“Mhm, I really need a shag.” Louis tried not to think about the sexual favour he had given Harry 2 nights ago. But like that was possible, all his thoughts were clouded by it. 

“Well, go ahead.” The older guy shoved the younger away and was immediately reminded that he needed the standing support as much as Harry did. Louis staggered clumsily for a few steps before his foot touched the edge of the curb and he fell backwards, his back hitting the concrete with a hard smack.

“Frigging Ireland.” Louis stared up at the stars as he heard Harry have a hysteric laughing fit. 

“Sod off, Styles.” The laughing grew louder and then Harry was looming over Louis. The stars in the night sky started sparkling more intensely and Louis closed his eyes to the beauty above him.

“You’re cute.” Hands grabbed his sides, pulling him upwards and into a sitting position. Louis opened his eyes to meet Harry’s. Their faces were too close for comfort but Harry laughed into his face and Louis couldn’t keep the infectious sound out of his system. 

“And you’re a wanker.” Louis fought with his legs until they finally remembered how to get his body up again. He couldn’t even trust his legs to do what he wanted anymore. His whole body was betraying him. The small voice in his head cackled shamelessly. 

“Only if gay chicken demands for it.” Harry grinned and shook his curls out, his head flopped from side to side and Louis got dizzy from watching.

“You can still go back to the party.”

“Nah, I’d rather stay with you.”

“I can get home by myself. I’m not really that drunk.”

“Oh, you’re pretty pissed.”

“Just go back and find yourself a bird! Leave me alone!” Louis wanted to die for sounding so pathetic. He forced his feet forward and was relieved to find that he could walk in a nearly straight line. Nearly straight.

“Maybe I should.”

“Right.” Louis ignored the pain in his chest, completely unnecessary that his body would underline that Harry spending the night with some random female sucked, majorly.

“Do you really think I would? Are we that good friends that you’d assume that I’d just hook up with anybody? I’m impressed, Tomlinson, I didn’t think you liked me  _at all_.” Harry swung one of his arms around Louis’ shoulders and together they continued their walk towards the inn. 

“Your sex life is of no concern to me.”

“Course it is. You always have to tell me if I’m with the wrong person. You promised me that.” Louis didn’t want to be reminded of Caroline Flack. He had to concentrate on not falling over. 

They walked in silence for several minutes and Louis regained some brain strength and Harry was humming a soft melody. It sounded like the tune of Lego House by Ed Sheeran but trying to figure it out made Louis’ head spin further. 

“We made it! Praise the Leprechauns!” Harry shouted, grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling him towards the old building. They sprinted the rest of the way and the night breeze freshened Louis up, made him sense their intertwined hands, fingers. Louis started laughing because this was normal, this was Harry and it was good that way but his brain also told him other things he couldn’t decipher. 

They stormed through the door and up the flight of stairs, all the while their hands were linked. Breathlessly, Harry stopped them in front of Louis’ door and leaned his back against it. His eyes were smiling and his mouth corners were tugged upwards in that intriguing way, making dimples carve into the surface of his face. 

Louis really didn’t mean to do it, he stumbled, he fell, he was pushed by that stupid voice inside his brain but then his lips landed on Harry’s and all Louis could do was step closer. 

He felt a light pressure against his chest and Harry pushed him away. Their eyes met and Harry’s were glazed over with either sleep or desire. Harry moved his head and then spoke into Louis’ ear, with that fucking wonderful voice. 

“You have to say  _Start_.”

“Start, start _, start_.” Louis whispered back and kissed Harry’s jaw. The skin was soft, so soft and Louis felt himself licking Harry’s jaw line. 

“How, how about the key?” Harry breathed into his ear, his lips grazing Louis’ skin and Louis had to kiss that mouth. No part of him questioned his decision and neither did Harry, his best friend who reciprocated and shoved his tongue deep into Louis’ mouth. 

They snogged and snogged and snogged for what seemed like hours and Louis had never felt so lost and so in place in his whole life. Louis wanted more though but he didn’t dare press his erection into Harry’s leg, so he settled for letting his mouth wander down Harry’s neck. Sucking the skin there brought the most interesting sounds to Louis’ ears and Harry’s hands started rolling up his shirt, touching bare skin. 

“Key’s in right pocket.” Louis managed to press out before he resumed exploring Harry’s neck, everything was so extremely hot. He was burning on the outside and the inside, his organs were on fire and he felt like he was about to collapse. 

A hand slide over the skin of his hip and found its way into Louis’ front pocket. Louis couldn’t keep the moan in, it was long and loud and Harry laughed as he was able to fumble Louis’ key out of his pocket. He squeezed himself out from under Louis’ hold and unlocked the door. Harry stepped into the room and gripped one of the straps of Louis’ braces, pulling him inside violently, urgently. The door slammed shut and fell into its lock and it was only Harry and Louis in a dimly-lit room. 

For the first time since this crazy ride had started, Louis became aware of how badly he wanted Harry, on a physical level, maybe even a higher level, but mostly physical level  _right now_. Louis reached forward and tugged Harry’s turquoise tee over his head. The older guy stood there, holding the shirt at his side and stared at Harry’s torso. Harry hadn’t always had a body like this but the effortlessly-trained look suited the younger lad very much. Definitely. 

Louis shoved his braces from his shoulders and ripped his shirt over his head and Harry’s eyes met his own. The green-blue was a sea,  _a fucking ocean_  of emotions, his whole face was. Harry was impossible at hiding his feelings but Louis was terrible at reading them. Was it disgust that he saw or was it lust?

Harry took a step towards him and intertwined their fingers together again, he walked towards the bed and let himself fall backwards onto it. Louis wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do but at the reassuring dimply smile that Harry shot at him, Louis crawled on the bed, straddling Harry’s legs. 

When Louis leaned forward to kiss Harry, hands dug into his sides and pressed him down and their chests touched. Something must have entirely broken inside of Louis because he lost all his restraint and he pressed, pushed his hard-on against Harry’s leg. 

A new thrilling fear overtook his brain as Louis realized that Harry’s dick was  hard and struggling against its confines, pressing into Louis’ hip. His heart was hotly beating inside his ribcage and once he had managed to stop kissing Harry for a moment, he reached between their bodies and undid Harry’s trouser buttons and zip. Harry’s head slammed back against the bed, a grumbling came out of his throat but Louis didn’t know if it was disapproving or agreeing. 

He never knew with Harry, he still didn’t know if he should have stayed and slept in Harry’s bed 2 nights prior. It hadn’t been Louis’ best idea to go to sleep with a raging erection or with the person who was the cause of it. Didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed the closeness. Sleeping with Harry was always fantastically nice, but he  _probably_  wouldn’t do it again being so severely sexually frustrated, probably. 

But now Louis was close to actually  _sleeping_  with Harry. The realization hit him after he had dragged the trousers and shoes off of Harry. He stood in front of his bed with naked Harry on it, Harry’s eyes were squeezed shut and one of his hands lay on his chest. Harry’s penis was fully erect and the sight was unbearable for Louis, unbearably magnificent. Louis’ dick twitched within his maroon trousers and he started pushing down his zip. 

Harry’s eyes snapped open and again they gazed at each other before Harry practically sprung on Louis and unzipped him and Louis couldn’t  _breathe_. Harry pushed all the articles of clothing down Louis’ legs, so they pooled around his feet and Harry’s hands rested on Louis’ bum. Louis whined, mewled when Harry started massaging his arse and suddenly Louis was spun around and thrown face forward onto the bed. 

Louis scrambled to turn around, afraid to have chased his best mate away but he saw Harry searching through Louis’ bags. Louis tried to prepare himself mentally for what was about to happen, he tried to mull over the impending actions in his head and found that he was no longer intoxicated. He wondered how drunk Harry still was as he pushed his shorts and boxers and shoes off all the way.  

Shifting upwards on his bed so that his legs wouldn’t dangle off, Louis waited. After some rustling he tentatively turned his head around again and saw the mindboggling sight of Harry putting a condom on. It was just as erotic as it had been in school with the bananas and cucumbers but so much more real. Louis wished that he could have put the condom on, he wanted to touch Harry, so  _much_.

It was that thought that reconnected Louis with the sensible part of his brain. Just like that night in the club when they’d first played gay chicken, Louis was again overwhelmed with fear of something he didn’t understand. Louis’ brain was wrecked open by an earthquake of terror and he leapt up and stood on two very shaky legs. 

“No. Harry. This is too far.” The small voice in his head started sobbing, wailing, thrashing about inside its cage within Louis’ mind. Louis started shivering and his words felt like ice on his lips. “I forfeit this round.”

Louis heard a breath of frustration or a sigh of relief leave Harry’s lips, he couldn’t tell, he just couldn’t tell. The younger guy stepped closer and 2 sweaty hands slapped onto Louis’ shoulders. 

“That’s perfectly, fine.” A breezy laugh gusted over Louis’ face and Louis felt like his heart was being stabbed, tiny holes let blood seep out and drenched all his insides in the sickly cold liquid. Had he honestly expected to have inter–fucking-course with Harry? Had Louis actually thought that Harry would want that? Want him? Louis wanted to hit himself for such daft and demented thoughts. 

“Let’s just, sleep.” Harry pushed Louis lightly and both guys climbed onto the bed. 

Louis lay on his stomach with his pent up sexual frustration aching like dehydration and felt a wave of other frustrations wash over him. Tiredness tugged at his naked body and he longed for rest, for peace in his discomposed and frazzled mind. 

He should have forced Harry to pick up some girl at the party. He shouldn’t have ignored El’s calls today. He should have had sex with El in the 9 months they were together already. He shouldn’t want for Harry to spend the night here. He should think about boobs and vaginas and girls with pretty brown slightly curled hair. But at that command absolutely no images of his best mate, Harry should enter his mind. Definitely none. 

The last thing Louis registered was a hand stroking over his back and then dreamland welcomed him, he dreamt of beautiful stars and going all the way just like in Katy Perry’s song.


	7. Lesson 7

“Thanks.”

“You're very welcome.” Harry lets the door he held open for Fiona fall close. Her brown hair reaches her bum and there's blonde highlights scattered across randomly. They gleam weirdly in the well-lit restaurant they had just entered. A Korean-looking waiter greets them with a smile that falls when his eyes land on Harry. The expression turns into an odd mix of awestruck and gobsmacked. Or maybe it's just one of those splayed across the young face. In any case, Harry is fully aware of the Asian eyes checking him out. 

“Table for two.” Fiona's voice is strong and the words flow out of her big lips and Harry thinks her mouth looks kind of perfect for sucking dick. His penis approves of his thoughts. 

“P-please follow me.” The young waiter stutters and blushes and nearly runs into another guy as he makes his way past rows of dining guests.

“I hope you'll be satisfied with this, uhm, this table and I'll get the. Yes, I'll go get the menu.” 

The guy does a cute little thing with his hands and even if Harry doesn't want to make any assumptions about a stranger's sexuality, he guesses that this guy isn't straight. Harry wonders what the waiter would do if Harry asked him out.

Harry laughs and actually forgets to pull out Fiona's chair for her. He watches the flustered waiter disappear into the kitchen as he sits himself opposite his date. 

“Do a lot of homosexuals come onto you?” Fiona's eyes are a grey blue with no piercing ability. Even when she stares Harry dead in the eye, it looks like she's dead. 

“Quite a few, yes.”

“Does it bother you?”                     

“No, you?”

“Not that many gays have hit onto me.” Harry smiles at her lame attempt at joking.

“I can't fathom why  _anyone_  wouldn't think you're absolutely gorgeous.” A grin spreads across her face and she's obviously charmed by Harry. He doesn't know if his ego can expand anymore, all the girls and the gays were falling to his feet. 

“I couldn't agree more.” Harry spins around in his seat, falls off his chair, knocks his knee against the table, painfully and actually manages to trip up again as he tries to get back on his feet. 

Louis stands there with that pretty little smirk on his face. Stands there and watches in pure delight as Harry struggles to get up. Harry can't come up with a reason why Louis is here. He is on a date with Fiona, Louis is not. 

“Hello there, I'm Louis Tomlinson.” 

“My name's Fiona. So nice to meet you.” Fiona's eyes want to shine, Harry is sure of it but the blue is just so un-striking. 

“I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your lovely date. I'm here with an urgent message for the young Styles here, from our management.”

“I doubt it.” Harry claws his way up and Fiona barely stifles a laugh at the sight of him. He knows he looks like a mess, no need to laugh and he guesses Louis is trying to sabotage his date. Nothing new though, Louis likes to repeat pranks. 

“Would you come with me for a little while, please?” Louis smiled cheekily and Harry actually forgets to apologize to Fiona for leaving as he starts following Louis. Walking behind Louis, Harry notices, not for the first time the perfect bum swaying in that casual rhythm. How could hips swing about so casually and carelessly? They're dangerous. 

Harry's libido is acting up again, has been acting up since  _that last night_  in Ireland. Over the past few days Harry repeated a mantra in his head over and over, what happened in Ireland, stays in Ireland, what happened in the past, stays there. That's where it belongs, forgotten. But ever since he decided to leave it behind himself his thoughts have constantly been clouded by sex. It surrounds him like a bubble, encasing him in sexuality, suffocating him. 

Louis pushes open an emergency exit door located on a hallway that should lead to the toilets and the fresh summer night's air hits Harry with a vigour, trying to be kind and free Harry of his growing problem. The door shuts with a low thud and the two are alone in a backyard, surrounded by brick walls. 

“Were you having a good time with  _Fiona_?”

“What's the reason you came.”

“Rude.” Louis' left eyebrow shoots up and he musters Harry incredulously. “We have a press conference before the concert tomorrow. Got to be at the stadium at 7.”

“You could have just texted me that.”

“But then I wouldn't have seen you before tomorrow.”

Harry hadn't been avoiding Louis. Not like before, no. Harry had simply distanced himself a healthy amount. Since their arrival in New York three days ago, Harry had spent some time with people other than One Direction. He hadn't singled out Louis and gone out of his way to go out of Louis' way. He made sure to interact with Louis, to let Louis' hand rest provocatively on his thigh, to hug him as warmly as ever. 

“Well, can't I have a date from time to ti—“

Harry sees something that makes his heart somersault in a completely unpleasant fashion. It's that cute little hand thing that the gay waiter did earlier. Louis is doing it now, his hand moves in that twirly feminine manner and it's utterly queer. 

A feeling inside Harry seems to change, it's like the change from driving with stick to auto. It changes abruptly and Harry doesn't necessarily like the new emotion that wells up. It seems threateningly close to verging on coming to the surface and spurting out of his mouth, but it luckily doesn't. 

“Not really, no.” Louis smirks and flips his hair lightly, smirking and smirking and meeting Harry's eyes and smirking. “You know she looks really cheap, right?”

“And you're entitled to judge her because you have more money than what's good for you?”

“No, because she looks like someone you quickly picked up to have sex with.”

“She's not your type, doesn't need to be.” 

“So she's your type? Brown feathery hair, blue eyes _, striped_  dress?”

Harry doesn't respond, he doesn't deem that question an answer. How did Harry have any influence on what Fiona wore? He didn't. He hadn't talked to her about stripes in the club he had met her, he definitely had not done that. 

When Louis' lips crash on his own, Harry doesn't flinch away like he should. He just lets it happen, lets the sparks fly and lets Louis extinguish the boredom he feels around Fiona. 

Louis pulls away after a while and pants against Harry's neck. Harry tastes mint on his tongue and he wonders if Louis was intent on this to happen all along. 

“What's wrong?”

Harry feels himself shrug and Louis' hands wrap around his body more tightly. 

“You don't have to run away, it's just a game.”

Harry huffs and snorts but keeps the remark that lies heavily on his tongue inside.

“We're just playing and ...” Louis trails off and starts kissing Harry's neck, sinking his skin into the sweaty skin. Harry almost wants to welcome the touch, the tingles spreading all over his body. But doesn't. 

“I really don't want to play anymore. You win.” All movement ceases – Harry can feel how Louis' chest stops heaving against him, hear how Louis' mouth pops from his skin wetly. 

“It's no more fun. We're too good at it.” Harry knows the lie is too transparent and Louis grips onto Harry's shirt too tightly, it hurts. 

“You don't see it as a game, but it clearly is only a game, what else should it be?” The words are a low hiss and Harry involuntarily gasps as Louis' breath cools the wet skin. 

“Let's stop playing.”

“That's stupid.”

“If you love this so much –“

“What are you implying?”

“If you love this so much then play with Zayn or Niall.”

“No, I don't want to.”

“Then play it with your girlfriend. Isn't that what she's for? You should just have sex with her already.”

Louis pushes Harry away and shock is written across his features. He spins around and starts storming off, his Toms clapping loudly against the dirty pavement.

Harry can only roll his eyes at these antics, what did Louis want to achieve with this behaviour? Make Harry grab him and push him face forward into the brick wall? That won't happen. 

Harry grabs Louis' arm and slams Louis as softly as he can face forward into the brick wall next to the door. He steps up behind him and calms his conflicting emotions before grinding his crotch against Louis' arse. 

His right hand slides around Louis' body and starts gripping Louis' dick through his trousers. It's exciting and he can almost convince himself that it's truly right. 

If nothing else it's intoxicating and Harry doesn't think he can stop rubbing himself against Louis. It feels almost toxic, with every movement that he comes closer to completion, he feels like his mind is being poisoned. 

Louis twists around in Harry's grip and suddenly they're grinding their erections against each other, through their clothes. The parts of Harry's brain that control sense combust and the difference and connection between Louis and sex fizzles statically inside his skull. 

Harry doesn't know how long it takes, he doesn't know when he slings his leg around Louis', when they start shoving their tongues in and out and in, out, in each other's mouths, but once he reaches his climax it's intense. It spreads like a wild fire, consuming Harry and Louis and making them explode like fireworks and dynamite and grenades and  _explosions_.

He doesn't want to admit that it's too intense, that he can't feel anything but Louis in the moment. That it scares the shit out of him, that Louis gives him this intensity. He can't form any thoughts, it's all just Louis. 

Two truly piercing blue eyes stare at him, they move back and forth between Harry's. They are looking for something but Harry doesn't know if they can find it in Harry's own eyes. 

The sparkling blue eyes flutter close and Louis' lips touch Harry's softly, so softly. Harry doesn't shut his own eyes, he stares ahead blankly into nothingness, seeing Louis' face in the various stages of sexual fulfilment. It's branded to his brain - Louis' face in pure bliss, total ecstasy. 

Harry feels Louis hardening against him again. The stickiness in his jeans is starting to dry up and Harry is reminded of having jerked off to Louis this morning. And yesterday night and morning, and numerous times the day before that.

Louis pulls back and he is smiling, he is happy and smiley, so smiley and those crystalline blue eyes are searching for something in Harry's. The younger guy knows that whatever it is that Louis wants from Harry, he isn't willing to give him.

“You didn't say Start.” It takes Harry by surprise when the words leave his mouth. His brain isn't functioning properly so maybe his heart utters the words for him. A cruel part of his heart, that watches with mirth as Louis' expression crumbles. 

“You didn't say  _Start_ , Louis, this wasn't a game. Look at yourself, at how much you enjoyed this.” Harry sees the pools of blue grow wet and he turns around. “Gay chicken is about trying to get the other to quit, pushing each other's limits. The way we played it isn't the  _right_  way anymore. You did great though, you won, you won  _completely_. I'm done with this for good.” With vicious strides Harry stalks out of the backyard. He doesn't go back to comfort his best mate, he won't tell him it's going to be alright. 

His steps are long and he's fleeing, he's running from Louis, leaving a trail of sparks behind him. In the nearby bathroom Harry wipes the spunk from the inside of his pants and splashes some water in his face. He stares at his reflexion in the large mirror, the weight of the despicableness Harry feels for himself, doesn't crash on him, yet. 

Harry starts feeling empty as the remaining sparks leave his brain and as he looks into his own green eyes in the mirror, he can see, what Louis saw in the green. 

He can't stand it and leaves his reflexion behind, heading back to the front of the restaurant, ramming into the gay waiter without care. Back to the girl who looks like a cheap copy of Louis, hoping that she won't also see Louis _, fucking Louis_  in Harry's eyes.


	8. Lesson 8

Louis could have waited a day, a week and then some but he didn’t. He waited only a few minutes before he ripped open the emergency exit door and ran to the front of the restaurant to find Harry.

He found him, he spotted him easily seated at his table with Fiona, laughing sweetly at whatever dumb thing she had just said. He became aware of how comfortable Harry looked, talking to this 23 year old and how he had looked at Louis in absolute  _not-comfortableness_.

It had made Louis spin around, run into an Asian waiter that just conveniently stood in the way of Louis storming out  _with class_. Only on the street did Louis realize the front of his chinos was filthy with his own sperm. In his embarrassment Louis hid out in the next motel he found for a total of 30 hours. He ate 17 packs of crisps and drank a truly unhealthy amount of coke, watched awful American TV, and took 4 cold showers that didn’t clear his head but that at least didn’t make him do what he wanted to.

Now he stood in front of the white door marked with the number 121, the stain on his pink trousers looked anything but attractive and he was exhausted and extremely angry. Louis hadn’t been able to sort out any of his thoughts, he thought he had in his isolation but standing in front of Harry’s and his own shared room any sort of coherency he had created inside the mess of his head had dispersed, leaving a distasteful flavour.

Louis was a guy - no vagina, nor boobs. He didn’t want any of that anyway but he did want something else. He tried to tell himself he couldn’t see it clearly but the small voice in his brain that was now fully in control of most of his being, urged him to just open his eyes and see.

He saw, he saw a lot when he opened the door of his Four Seasons New York hotel room. Harry was just in the process of taking,  _stripping_  his black shirt off, stripping it off and flinging it onto a nearby chair. Louis expected many reactions from his body but all he got was anger, hot fury that Harry was in their hotel room doing such things as stripping and getting ready for bed to sleep.

Of course Harry thought it to be the best moment to turn around with Louis’ insides boiling dangerously - his organs were cooked so well, they were ready for devouring. Such thoughts drifted away though when Louis’ eyes settled on Harry’s  _perfect_  torso. He wanted to devour  _that_ , that perfect chest, wanted to explore it completely, wanted to see how Harry would react to his touch, wanted to trace down to his abs and just admire them. Wanted to devour Harry.

It was the first time Louis had ever allowed himself to do that, let his eyes roam over Harry’s body with the lights on. There was so much he discovered he hadn’t known about – the way that the 2 actual nipples stood in such a perfect constellation with the 2 odd ones, the way the V pointed down with such a precision, dipping beneath the hem of the boxers, the happy trail that underlined what that V already teased at, the way Harry’s torso curved inwards at his waist only so little, the way his hipbone poked out just a bit and how  _fucking_  good Harry looked.

“Where were you all day? You missed the press conference and the charity game.” Louis’ eyes snapped up and Harry was staring at him with a truly concerned expression, not moving to cover his upper body up, to make himself decent around Louis who would dearly need that right about now.

“Really? That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“I was worried, so yeah.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I’m your best mate, of course I was-“

“Shut up, Harry.”

“I’m sor-“

“Don’t even try.” Louis sat down on his side of their shared double bed, his back towards Harry, his thoughts trained on Harry though.

“I stayed up all night yesterday... I was waiting for you.”

“Is that supposed to be cute?” Louis didn't ask if Harry had shagged Fiona, his chest was too tightly clenched, too unhappy. 

“You could have texted me that you’re alright.”

“I texted Zayn.”

“You missed the press conference and the match.”

“I hate American football.”

“Me too, it’s useless.”

“...”

“Americans just try to ruin good ball sport. Why did they have to go and steal the name 'football' too? They’re evil. And dumb. I watched some TV just before you came, awful.” Louis could have listened to Harry talking with that slow manner of his all day, he could have listened to him ramble all day and it would be the best thing ever. 

He could have joined in on the conversation telling Harry all about how much he despised American sports and how frustrated he still got thinking about England not going further in the Football Euro Cup 2012. But he didn’t.

“Are you mad because I stopped you from having sex with some random girl on the last night in Ireland?”

“No, what? That’s stupid—“

“Then were you mad because I didn’t want to have sex with you?” Louis’ blood was boiling, he was furious with Harry who had acted like a prick, a total twat, and Louis had never felt more girly in his life for hating him for that, and he hated himself for feeling  _girly_.

“No, I just, I’m not mad, any-anymore. I just don’t want to do, I mean, uhm, with you, uhm, anymore.”

“And that’s why you acted like a complete arsehole?”

“No, I didn’t mean to, I just, I –“

“No, fuck you, Harry. Fuck you, what did I ever do that made me deserve your  _shit_? I thought we were better friends than that.”

“Louis, it just, it’s too much.”

“Sod off.” Louis didn’t want Harry to leave, not at all. He wanted Harry to stay, just stay with him. He really just wanted his best friend to be there, to be near him. Did Harry really not want that?

“Look, Louis, listen, it’s, what happened in Ireland, it should  _stay there_ , you know?”

“...”

“I... I was really pissed Lou. Really drunk.”

“...”

“We could have... we could have made a huge mistake. Don’t you agree?” Of course Louis agreed, completely. He knew how close he had come to just letting himself go and he wasn’t even sure how he had managed to stop himself. He was frightened, he remembered as much, but what was it that he had been scared of? Enjoying himself too much? - that's exactly what Harry had said last night.

“I mean, we might have... what if we had done ... and then we wouldn’t remember the next day? I mean that would be seriously screwed up.”

“That’s no explanation for your shitty behaviour.”

“I just wanted space, that’s the truth.”

“Space?”

“We nearly had... we... well things could have escalated over in Mullingar, really badly and I thought we should just cool it down with the playing of.. gay chicken.”

“Thought the best way was to be rude and mean?”

“You wouldn't listen..”

“Just get out.”

“Why?”

“You’ve said what you wanted to say, and you suck.”

“No, come on, I just couldn’t handle it, okay?”

“...”

“It was too much for me!”

“You practically said you hated me yesterday!”

“I...No...”

“Yes, you did!”

“I just couldn’t take it! The game got to me and-and it wouldn’t stop! I wasn’t avoiding you and nothing, all I wanted was a shag. I could have had sex with Fiona and everything would have been fine! I’ve just been on edge, like really on edge! I didn’t mean to behave like a-a dick!” Louis didn't feel happy that Harry hadn't had sex with Fiona,  _not at all_. 

“... So,... so you didn’t want to play gay chicken because ...?” Louis wanted to look into Harry’s eyes to see the sincerity of his words but knew he could be betrayed by those eyes too, just like yesterday. How could he have fooled himself into thinking that Harry wanted to do what they had done?

“Uhm...I, we...”

“Because you wanted to fuck a vagina. That’s reasonable, you’re Harry Styles, live up to what the media says about you, sure.”

“No, come on. I was having a really hard time.” Louis wondered if the pun was intended. He also wondered why Harry was such a horrible person, why couldn’t he just hug Louis and tell him feeling so emotional right now was just fine?

“Oh for boobs’ sake. I just want you to forget about me being a stupid  _shithead_. I just want to be best friends.”

Louis turned when he felt an additional weight on the bed and watched in unhidden awe as Harry lay down on the bed so niftily, his head at the foot of the bed, smiling up at Louis. Harry’s hand came up and tugged at Louis’ arm, trying to pull him onto his back.

“Lie down.”

“No, leave.”

“Just lie down.”

“Why should I?”

“So I can say Start and get this going.”

“What?”

“Just, let’s play.”

“You just said you didn’t want to play, and yesterday –“

“Louis, can’t you just lie down, and let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

“What?”

“This can prove that we're okay, right? Let’s not talk about  _this_ , let’s just play.”

“You don’t want to talk about  _this_?” Louis watched Harry remove his jeans and underpants and before Louis even got the chance to clear his head the younger guy lay back down again, still smiling with a hard-on.

Harry wanted to play gay chicken, never talk about it, forget the past happened and he had a semi. Harry wasn’t acting like a complicated guy and Louis realized that was a good thing. It meant Harry didn’t want to confront his troubles or feelings and Louis was fine with that, right now.

“I was a chicken yesterday.”

“Yeah.” Louis’ voice cracked around the word and he slid out of his trousers and pants and Toms, not thinking clearly enough to take his shirt off too, shifting up on the bed until his head was on the same level as Harry’s hips.

“I learnt my lesson. Will you do me the honour of playing gay chicken now?”

“If you insist, Styles.”

Louis focused on the ceiling above him as he felt Harry’s hand on his knee, they were playing the proper game now, apparently. Whoever could go further and Louis put his own right hand on Harry’s knee. They both slowly let their hands travel upwards, it was torturous. Neither flinched away, neither backed down. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be played, this was too darn good.

Harry moved first all the way, his right hand wrapped around Louis’ dick and started pumping. Louis just loved it, he wanted to lave in this, ignore the fear that Harry might jump up and run away again.

Louis’ own hands worked fast, he touched Harry’s penis with expertise, it surprised him how quickly he got used to gripping Harry in this position.

Louis should restrain himself, he shouldn’t moan and groan and he shouldn’t feel so darn good. He had no control though, none, and when his body decided he should roll on top of Harry, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Not if it felt so good.

Harry didn’t stop moving beneath him though, his hips bucked upwards and his hands grabbed at Louis’ balls and knob-head with such terrifyingly good movements. The sixty-nine position was everything Louis could have imagined, and putting his mouth around Harry’s cock whilst holding the base with shaking hands seemed the most natural thing to Louis.

“Louis!!”

Hearing his name in such loudness gasped out in Harry’s voice, in such a  _desperate_  tone turned Louis on more than actually having his best mate’s dick in his mouth. He wasn’t actually bobbing his head or sucking but he was licking around Harry’s penis as far as he got. He let it slip into his mouth again, out of his mouth, and licked its sides, he held Harry’s hips down when he put it back into his mouth for fear of being chocked. He wanted to be fully aware of the pleasure he gave Harry, hopefully the same immense pleasure he felt.

Something wet touched Louis’ erection and engulfed him and Harry’s mouth – Harry’s mouth taking him in, giving him a blowjob, Harry’s hands – Harry’s hands on his bum pushing him downwards, Harry’s tongue – Harry’s tongue swirling around his penis, wetness spreading. Louis gripped onto Harry’s thighs, pressing his face into Harry’s hips,  _Harry_ , fuck.

But Louis didn’t actually orgasm from all that, he reached his climax when he heard Harry’s soft laugh as he pressed his lips to the side of Louis’ penis. It was inhumane, just not right to do so but Louis managed to roll off of Harry and spurt his sperm all over the bed. He turned his head in time to see Harry tug at his dick with closed eyes once before cumming all over his own abdomen.

Louis really, really wanted to continue touching Harry, wanted to let his hands roam all over him, do that all night long but he didn’t.

He just lay there smiling, watching Harry’s torso heave upwards and downwards rhythmically, forming a melody in his Louis’ head combined with the pounding of his own heart. He wondered what Harry’s heart was doing right now - racing, stuttering, behaving maniacally as well? He thought that reaching over and placing his hand on Harry’s left chest to check wouldn’t be appropriate now that the game was done.

The musky smell that filled the room was pleasant and everything was just  _pleasant_ , because Harry was here, with Louis.

“You shaved your beard fully.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I noticed.” All Louis could do was laugh, he thought it was hilarious that Harry had  _noticed_  that he had shaved. He didn’t tell Harry that he had done so for him, he guessed that Harry knew that anyways. That he had simply tried to make himself more appealing and it seemed to have worked, Harry looked sated and satisfied.

They lay there for a few lengthy minutes, just soaking in each other's presence, feeling too content to care about the world or its problems. A knock disrupted the peace that had settled in the room and as the loser of their eighth round of gay chicken Louis decided he’d take upon the difficult task of opening the door. Harry laughed quietly with half-closed eyes as Louis sluggishly stumbled towards the door.

Louis grabbed Harry’s boxers from the floor and made sure not to put on too much of a show but slip them on as naturally as possible. No big deal to wear them anyways. He had had Harry’s dick in his mouth, no problem to wear his boxers. It was still extremely thrilling, making his body flare up with renewed energy and excitement.

He felt only the slightest bit distressed by how normal this all was – they played a game, enjoyed themselves and were best friends – the only thing he was worried about was that Harry would still shag Fiona, that playing gay chicken would become irrelevant once Harry had a taste of vagina again.

The images that ran through Louis’ head conflicted greatly with the pleasance in the room and as he opened the door and saw Liam standing in a tense pose, Louis sensed the goodness starting to drip out of the room, out of Louis’ system as well.

“Hey.” Liam’s voice sounded strained and he didn’t turn to directly face Louis. He spoke to the door in a hushed tone, trying to convey what he wanted to say with the smallest volume possible.

“Uh, hi.” Louis stepped out of the gap between the door and its frame. He made sure Liam couldn’t see inside, made sure that whatever wonderfulness it was that surrounded Harry stayed inside.

“I... I don’t really know how to start this.” Liam laughed very weakly, so weakly even that it sounded more like an attempt to defuse the rapidly rising tension.

“Back in Ireland, the last night.” The face of the younger lad turned into a frown, his eyebrows pulled together and he seemed to have lost the ability to form the next words. Louis wasn’t going to give him assistance though. Ireland was in the past, that’s what Harry had said, what they’d agreed upon.

“I should say something like ‘it’s probably not like what I think I saw at all, that I got it all wrong’ but I definitely didn’t. Get it wrong that is.” Liam put his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest protectively.

“I was home early from the party on the last night in Mullingar, I was in the inn and Harry and you came back... and in front of your room.” Louis didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t want to believe his ears for hearing what he had just heard. Liam had seen them, he had seen them that night. 

“I... ehm... I mean, what I’m trying to say. You can’t do that. You can’t do that to the group and neither of you are ... well you have a girlfriend, you’re not queer. I just have to make sure you don’t do  _that_  again. It would ruin all of us.” Inside Louis rage violently sprung to life again, he wanted to hit Liam for saying Harry and he were gay, wanted to rip up all of Liam’s mental defences and stab at Liam where it’d hurt him the most.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t yell at Liam and tell him  _he_  was the homosexual one because he remembered something about gay chicken when he had first heard about it. ‘You can’t play if you’re gay, that’s cheating. You can’t play if you want to, that just proves you’re a homo.’

“Okay, thanks.” Louis nodded his head and watched Liam walk away, his steps quick as if he wanted to break into a run. As Louis opened the white door again, he knew that all goodness had left the room even if Harry still lay naked atop their King-sized bed.

He couldn’t exactly tell Harry what had just happened, Harry didn’t want to hear that, he wanted to be free of the obligation of having to think about what had happened. And there hadn’t been anything to think about until Liam had shown Louis there really was.

Louis lay down on the bed, its comfortableness had vanished and he stared up at the ceiling and wanted it to break and bury him. He had been so careless, Liam had seen them, he could have told anybody, Louis’ life could be ruined in an instant. If he had come by earlier today, he would have caught them, again.

Louis rolled over on his side, his back to Harry and came to the conclusion that he would give himself this night, just this one night to be this near to Harry.

After tonight he would never again think about being close to Harry just for the sake of being close to him. Starting in the morning he would take off Harry’s boxers and he would forget about the tightening in his chest, the restricting feeling that eased when Harry smiled at him.

He would butcher, slice up the voice in his head, the small voice that had gradually grown into more than he should have ever let it become, grown into the only thing that mattered anymore. He would extinguish that voice and its control, would take it and put it back into the box it had slipped out of, store it away in a dark corner of his mind and would ignore it, just like before he had met Harry, before Harry had ever smiled at him.

Louis closed his eyes and allowed himself this one night, his right hand tentatively searched behind him on the surface of the bed. He nearly jerked it away when it touched Harry’s but he didn’t because he had permission to do this once. There were probably logical reasons why his whole being lit up with pure joy when he moved his hand onto Harry’s, there had to be rational explanations for feeling this full of glee.

His fingers intertwined with Harry’s and he might have imagined it but he felt a slight squeeze, a reassuring little squeeze that what they had done was right after all. He believed the lie in that moment because it felt so  _fucking_  good, because Harry was so  _fucking_  good.


	9. Lesson 9

Harry shouldn’t have waited a day, a week and then some but he does. He waits a whole 8 days before he reacts to Louis distancing himself from Harry.

One Direction is sitting in a café near Central Park - they’re just hanging out, texting or calling friends and family, and simply  _relaxing_. Harry likes this, it’s simple and effortless.

Yes, technically Liam is having a fight with his girlfriend over the phone. Yes, technically Zayn is texting one of his mates back home because he doesn’t know if he still has a girlfriend. Yes, technically Niall got into a brawl at a bar last night and that’s their actual reason for hiding out in this coffee house.

But still, Harry doesn’t mind all that – he takes a picture of them huddled around their table and posts it on twitter along with the words: just chillin in NY, #prettyflyforwhiteguys.

Harry _does_  mind that Louis is on the phone with Eleanor again though. He talks to her every single day now, for several hours and it’s not that Louis ignores Harry. They’re perfectly friendly with each other - their friendship is exactly where it’s supposed to be, where it should have been from the very start – really friendly, really platonic.

So Harry shouldn’t be  _bothered_ , he should be happy. And he is, definitely. His  _happiness_ , his craving for more joy is also the reason why his hand springs forward as soon as Louis finishes up his call with his lovely girlfriend. Harry’s left hand takes hold of Louis’ leg and Harry reassures himself that he does it for no other reason than for fun, definitely no other.

Louis reacts instantly and quite charmingly to Harry’s hand. His whole body jerks and his foot connects with the table, making all the drinks on it wobble dangerously. Amusement spreads across Harry’s face but it feels wrong to be delighted by Louis’ discomfort. He thought that their friendship always allowed for such unsuspected touches. He is pretty sure about that - a simple touch like this didn’t have such a strong reaction just weeks ago. But now they are really friendly,  _really_  platonic, so maybe this is the appropriate reaction for Louis to have. 

Harry squeezes Louis’ upper leg and Louis’ own hand instinctively twitches towards the younger guy before he seemingly stops himself and rests it at his side again. Louis glares at Harry who only widens his smile in return to Louis’ unsettledness. 

Letting his fingers do the walking, he moves his hand upwards and Louis scrunches his face comically when Harry’s hand gravitates too closely to his crotch. It doesn’t aim for that though but slips into the right pocket of Louis’ chinos. Louis ceases breathing, halts his lungs from operating, and Harry knows, feels it because so did his own. His hand is in such an intimate position but not the sexual kind, the good kind.

With much fascination Harry watches as Louis’ Adam’s apple bobs up and down, up and down, and notices the strong beard growth on Louis’ face. He lets his eyes wander up slowly, dragging out the time that he still has before he inevitably comes into direct contact with Louis’ again. It happens all too soon, and he can’t flee from it. He has to cope with that blueness right then and there, has to stare back and deal with the agitated combustions inside of himself.

He starts counting the seconds, almost hears them ticking away as he continues to gaze into Louis’ eyes. Harry can see his own reflection there, he can see the lids quiver and he can see trepidation. Louis’ eyes flicker between Harry’s own, and completely at a loss of words, Harry sits there with his left hand still inside the front pocket of Louis’ trousers. 

Harry feels  _really_  lost in the tight hold of the eye contact, as lost as coming upon an underwater cave and not finding the exit again in the darkness. There’s all-consuming fear but also excitement mixed in with the terror. A rush of adrenaline that makes Harry want to stay in the cave even if it means he’s going to drown, going to die. 

“Louis.”

Louis’ head swivels over to Liam and  _their_  eyes lock - Harry’s hand doesn’t move from Louis’ front pocket.

Harry watches Liam’s frown deepen and Louis grips at Harry’s hand and for a brief moment Harry thinks Louis is just going to hold it in his. Instead he drops it to Harry’s side and gets up, stands up stiffly like a machine, moves around Zayn and walks towards the door.

Harry feels overwhelmed. He watches Louis leave the café, go outside into the sunlight, shielding his eyes from its glare with his hand and Harry watches Louis just  _walk away_. He doesn’t even turn around to wave goodbye to Harry, and it makes Harry feel overwhelmed.

As he sits there surrounded by Liam, Niall and Zayn he feels overwhelmed because Louis just went and took all the magnificent sparks with him, leaving Harry with nothing but a tingling sensation in his hand. 

Later that night in the shower with the annoyingly fluttering lights providing fuel for his pitiful state, and with Louis just beyond the bathroom’s door, Harry jerks off with his left hand. He imagines Louis fucking Eleanor and uses the images to destroy any of himself  _with_  Louis.

When he slips into bed next to Louis, he’s feeling fine. He acknowledges the fact that there had been something inside of him that wanted to try to obtain more sparks or thrilling tingles or something, wanted to test out the limits of his fear of the intensity that surrounds Louis. He doesn’t deny it had been there, that greedy desire, but now it’s gone. Now Harry is fine. 

When Louis playfully punches him in the arm, he feels overwhelmed again, like all his nerves burst in that place and infect all his insides with tiny zealous explosions that want to rip open his skin and demolish everything. 

Harry can’t even blame anybody but himself for  _this_  having happened. He let the game get to him, let Louis crawl into his system and it’s not  _like_  Louis wants to wreck havoc and bring chaos to Harry’s perfectly fine world – he just does.


	10. Lesson 10

He listened nervously to the phone ringing.

_“Hi! Oh my, you’re really keeping your promise to call every day!”_

“Hey, come on now, of course I am, I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I didn’t.”

_“You’re such a sweetie.”_

“So are you.”

_“Is there any special reason for you calling me though?”_

“Not really, I just – well, I just wanted to hear your lovely voice.”

_“You really are the best, what did I do in my past life to deserve you?”_

“The real question is how come I deserve you.”

_“You’re making blush! Stop with the flattery already.”_

“Can’t help it.” Louis smiled at Eleanor’s flustered tone but he couldn’t bring himself to say what he needed to say. He just couldn't get the words out. 

_“How are the boys? How’s Harry?”_

“They’re good, he’s good. Why do you inquire, love?”

_“You haven’t spoken about him in a while.”_

“Indeed.”

_“You usually can’t shut up about that little wonder boy. I love how adorable you get when you talk about him, so what’s he been up to?”_

“Nothing much I guess.”

_“I hope everything’s alright.”_

“We’re fine.”

_“Don’t get so defensive. It just shows that –“_

“I’ll hang up now. It’s early for you and late for me.”

_“Yeah, I’ll go to university and you go and have a pillow fight with Harry.”_

“Perhaps.”

_“You were so close until just recently. I’m just concerned that your friendship is –“_

“I really find it odd that you have such a large interest in Harry.”

 _“Well, I might not have_ such a large interest _in Harry if you hadn’t always had_ such a large interest _in him.”_

“I’m not even going to ask why your tone just got that way.”

_“Don’t.”_

“I won’t.”

_“I really liked that picture of you sitting on Harry’s lap from 2 weeks ago. The one at your arrival in the New York airport.”_

“Thanks.” He remembered thinking Harry’s lap looked especially inviting that day and it wasn’t like he could sit himself on the floor – his chinos weren’t made for such rough handling. Nobody understood that he didn’t do it because he _wanted_  to but simply because it was the most convenient sitting position. Nobody understood him.

_“You’re welcome, have a good night.”_

“And you have a good day.”

Eleanor hung up before Louis could. He didn’t feel as much irritation as he should have though - he was too bewildered that this had gone nothing like he had planned, that such stupid things came out of his mouth.

Louis walked back to his and Harry’s shared hotel room and desperately hoped for Harry to be asleep, for not trying to engage in conversations with him that made Louis question why he wasn’t just spending all his time with Harry anymore.

He had good reasons though, he had really good reasons and he was glad Liam had reminded him of those reasons yesterday in that café with his frown. Not that he knew much  _about_  those reasons because he didn’t want to go there mentally. He didn’t want to challenge his whole life with questions that might bring horrible conclusions about the world and most importantly himself. It was better to just suppress and ignore his problems and open the door to his hotel room with not shaking hands.

He unlocked the door with his key card - the lights were on inside and Louis sighed heavily, dramatically. So Harry was awake, had maybe waited up for him, and Louis wasn’t in the mood for talking. He was in the mood for many things, most involved Harry but he shouldn’t even remotely think about those – ignoring suppressing them was the best solution. He slammed the door shut behind him and un-squeezed his eyes, staring straight at Harry.

Harry sat in a chair by the window, naked, his hands on his cock, masturbating. It was like someone had just slapped Louis with such force and velocity that he staggered back and tripped over his own feet. The seconds before he completely lost his balance extended and his body swayed dangerously, his arms thrashed about helplessly and he fell with a dull crash.

Louis had not only just walked in on Harry jerking off - no, that wasn’t  _enough_  - Louis had managed to walk in on Harry working his knob and topped it off with falling over his own feet.

Sharp laughter filled the room and Louis pressed his eyes shut, not knowing if he could handle seeing Harry’s delight mixed in with his sweaty state of arousal.

“Oh _, Lou_ , that was  _great_!”

“Thanks.” Louis crawled across the floor, not yet having reclaimed his dignity and finding it surprisingly easy to claw his way forward.

“I’m really glad I’m not the only klutz around.” Louis looked up and very quickly down at the floor again – the overall situation wasn’t in Louis' favour at all.

“Would you mind covering yourself up?”

“Well,  _wow_. That’s new.” Harry sounded appalled and Louis was appalled by his own words too – Harry’s nudity shouldn’t bother him, but well,  _it did_.

“I don’t actually enjoy looking at your plonker.”

Laughter filled Louis’ ears once again but he didn’t question Harry for the reason. He guessed it anyways and didn't want for Harry to elaborate. Louis lifted his head up only to see Harry sitting in his chair with his hand still on his dick. Their eyes met and yes, most  _definitely_ , Louis didn’t like seeing Harry’s penis. Not one _bit_.

Louis sat down on the edge of the bed and readjusted his hair before looking back at Harry. The naked guy was slowly stroking himself and Louis’ breath caught in his throat. Harry only grinned at him in response to his audibly awkward breathtaking, obviously not embarrassed by this whole thing.

“Come on, just, just wank in the bathroom, I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Please.”

“You don’t really.” Louis directed his gaze down because Harry was smirking and it was all so funny to Harry, wasn’t it. Oh, Louis would laugh, he would love to but the movement would go directly to his groin, he was sure of it.

“Say Start and you can, you know, join in.”

“You’re being ridiculous! Stop it already!” Louis glanced back up and felt his insides boiling from anger and embarrassment and unwanted arousal and  _Harry_. 

“Your choice.” With that Harry continued pumping himself, staring Louis right in the eyes.

The muscles in Harry’s arms were moving them in fluid motions and his face was really just stunning this way. It petrified Louis, the immense pleasure written all over Harry. His abs flexed and his collarbones protruded out of his skin, highlighting how incredibly manly Harry looked.

“But if you only want to watch, that’s your choice too.  _Kind of queer though_.” The words did sink into Louis’ brain but he didn’t care about what they implied, what they meant. All he cared for was Harry offering him to make a choice and Louis realized it wasn’t a choice, not when it came to Harry.

“Star- Start.” He opened his trousers and slid his hands in, watching Harry touch himself and it was so much better than porn.

There was no fun in watching porn, no spice - it was just arousal of the most primal sort. Louis liked this better – he knew Harry, he knew his best mate and it made this whole experience of being an onlooker so much more exciting. The fact that Harry was sitting mere metres away from him probably helped – best quality pornography.

Louis focused on the sounds that Harry made, the light grunts and nearly silent moans. He watched Harry’s mouth, saw his tongue flicking out every few seconds, was mesmerized by those full lips, entirely entranced by that thick neck and its many jumping veins.

“The fans call you a sex god.” Louis heard his own voice speak without his permission – he was too concentrated on capturing every detail of Harry frigging in front of him.

“Mhm.  _You agree_?” Harry’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, half a seductive trap and so many emotions swelled up inside of Louis along with his orgasm.

“Fuck.” They both came over their hands and stomachs and the floor and Louis thought of girls having a much easier life, a less messy life. He shook his head and wiped his hands on the blanket, deciding he didn’t want images of girls to ruin what had just happened - Harry coming all over himself with Louis watching the private show.

Louis felt gutted and exhausted but also less  _frustrated_  than he had been for several days. He tried to tell himself that he could wank and think about Eleanor and girls and their  _parts_  but since the playing of 'gay chicken' had started he couldn’t deny anything anymore, and his brain was explicitly going to the memories he made with it.

“Shower?” Harry sounded good, he sounded really good and well and happy and when Louis met his eyes they were shining brilliantly with lazy glee.

“Sure.” Louis followed Harry into the bathroom, spastically getting rid of all his clothing, allowing his eyes only to trail after Harry’s feet on the floor. He wasn’t certain as to how he managed to walk without falling over again but he made it into the shower and Harry turned the water on and Louis gave up on resisting, on resisting the urge to look, to admire.

The first few droplets hit Harry on the chest and the next covered him in a soft drizzle and soaked his hair just a tad. The water ran down Harry’s sides and over his perfect face all the way down to his knob and beyond. Goosebumps rose on Harry’s arms and Louis felt them like an infection spreading on his own, even with the water being just the right temperature. Louis reached out to swipe off the sperm stuck on Harry’s stomach and he rubbed it off with languish and relaxed movements.

His hand trailed upwards and he felt the nipple over Harry’s heart harden into a small perky thing. The water ran through his fingers and created a film that separated Louis from Harry’s skin and he wasn’t pleased. Louis daringly let his hand wander down to Harry’s abdomen again and his finger drew an outline over Harry’s right hipbone.

“Are you really –“ Harry pointed down to Louis’ penis “- again?” Louis looked down and caught sight of his own dick, as well as Harry’s, in semi-hardness.

“Uhm. I, I mean, ehm.”

“We- well, I could. I could go too.”

Harry’s grin really didn’t help – his dimples were showing and mischief shone in his eyes. Louis had known Harry’s eyes were green but they didn’t have to glow like that right now. They didn't have to mock Louis for being powerless. 

“Whoever comes first –“ Harry stepped closer and breathed into his ear. “-  _loses_.”

It made Louis kiss Harry, all tongue and no holding back – it wasn’t his fault though. Kissing Harry was just warmer, it made Louis’ body hot. He let his arms encircle Harry’s neck and pushed Harry into the wall behind him, pressing against him, thrusting his hips up against him,  _feeling_  him.

Harry was groaning into their kiss and Louis liked having a little control, liked to think that he could somehow gain back what he had lost - whatever that was. The water ran between their bodies and it was fantastic to rub against Harry, sliding up and down, up down, updown.

Louis felt bold, felt a surge of confidence and he wanted to win, really wanted to prove that he could be more than just an embarrassing mess writhing in ecstasy at the cause of Harry Styles. He moved his hands from around Harry’s neck and shoulders and pinned them on either side of Harry’s head. Harry still had a smirk on his face and Louis kissed his jaw, not being able to hold back his own grin.

“You’ll lose, Harry.” Louis’ voice was anything but steady – it was full of tremors and shakes and Harry wiggled against him, bucked his hips energetically so that Louis just wanted to call it quits, give up, give in to his orgasm already. But he didn’t and instead lifted Harry’s left arm, leant his head over and did what he had daydreamt about many times.

His lips touched the star and he bit down softly, his tongue trailed the words  _‘won’t stop ‘till we’_  and his mouth clasped around the word ‘ _surrender’_ , sucking at it. He noticed his right hand had moved to intertwine with Harry’s above their heads and the feeling was surreal, the feeling of Harry so incredibly close. Louis had never experienced this, this blissful joy of having someone so  _near_  to himself, his own soul,  _heart_.

Harry’s fingers clasped harder between his own when Louis’ pressed a kiss on Harry’s newest tattoo. He was unable from keeping the smile from forming against the ‘ _Hi’_  and he laughed breezily and breathlessly against the wet skin of his best friend.

Louis was glad that Harry came with that, he didn’t know if he’d have it in him to hold his own climax at bay much longer. It was a supreme sensation that shook Louis with its intensity and he slammed his mouth onto Harry’s, just trying to get more, more and more of  _this_.

This.

He calmed down a bit, let his body rock against Harry’s aimlessly, fruitlessly and let his thoughts go to  _this_  for the first time.

Harry had gone to biting his neck, licking the love bites he was giving Louis and Louis figured something out involuntarily. He didn’t want to but it just came to him and ripped open the foundations of his being.

He didn’t push Harry away and tell him immediately about his conclusion. There was no reason but to enjoy the aftermath of their doing. It was wrong of course, to gain such pleasure under the pretence of a  _game_  but it could go on for a little while longer, it should, but it wouldn't. It wasn’t like Louis could admit to anything yet though - his head was too light to think of the weight that was gradually being  _lifted_  from his shoulders.

Harry’s head dipped down and his mouth pressed against Louis’ left collarbone, his teeth grasped at it and Louis let out a strangled half-moan, half-laugh. It felt like his whole life was about to make much more sense and it was scary to think that if he let go, if he allowed for his brain to mull it over that everything in his life wouldn’t be only half-right anymore. Like all those half-truths about him would melt together with his half-secrets and form a new person - one that didn’t feel wrong all the time.

“Harry.”

“Mhm?” Harry’s expression was a content one, a truly happy one and Louis couldn’t say what he should be saying, he couldn’t say how amazing Harry’s lips were against his own. He couldn’t quite do that.

“Liam saw us snog, the last night in Mullingar. He thinks we’re gay.” Instead of saying that Harry’s body was addicting, that everything about Harry was purely intoxicating to Louis, he said what Harry definitely did not want to hear.

Louis watched in morbid fascination as Harry’s expression froze and how the light drained from his eyes, how the lust left.

“I’m not gay. If I was, I’d fancy guys.”

“Which we don’t.”

“You do, but I don’t.”

“Wha-“

“Stop the act. Stop trying to pretend you don’t love this.”

“And what about you? You’re being a fucking  _hypocrite_!”

“I love vaginas and boobs, that’s why I shagged the fabulous Fiona last night.”

“You... you did?”

“She got me nice and horny on our date today too. You disturbed my peaceful wanking.”

“I’m not a quee-“

“Yes, you are. You’re wonderfully queer and you should accept it. You’ve been trying to play our friendship down to a nice and platonic level over past few days but you just did that to avoid going all love-eyes on me again. You’ve been trying to hide your real desires from coming out.”

“Stop-“

“You need to  _come out._ “

Harry didn’t even move, he didn’t even seem to find it worth going out of the shower for – like this hadn’t been an argument that shook their friendship like a ferocious earthquake  -tearing up the ground, destroying the peacefulness. 

As Louis was about to leave their room, he turned around again to pull on some sweatpants. Exiting a second time with a much more socially acceptable outfit than nudity, he started trudging down the empty corridors of the hotel with a blank face and dull eyes. He wondered if Harry would forget about everything like he did after every of his little freak-outs - or whether this was an actual serious fight that could potentially ruin their lives.

Louis took his phone out of his pocket and called Eleanor. This time he listened to the phone ringing with much less nervousness. This time he was going to tell her that he had cheated.


	11. Lesson 11

He hasn't ever really considered it. It isn't something one has to think about when there were 3 kindergarten wives to take care of and when the prettiest girl in primary school wanted to hold hands in every lunch break. 

It was girls, girls, and more girls throughout all his life and boys weren't something he ever had to think about. It was just girls. Why would he need anything else if girls were enough? 

Harry obviously understands that there's potential  _there_  – he has many gay friends and sure they find him attractive, tell him so but they never actually come  _on_  to him. It just isn't an issue that Harry has to deal with since there are  _so many_  girls in his life. Harry has a hard time choosing out of  _all those_  girls.

And choosing a guy is not necessarily something he  _needs_ to even consider. But here he is, in front of a gay club in Manhattan – appropriately named 'Flavor of Rainbows'. It's exactly like he imagined, just like in  _Queer as Folk_  – flashy lights and men wearing tank tops and weird hats.

Harry tries to tell himself that this is okay, that he has gone to gay bars before. That he is totally LGBT-friendly and doesn't feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable in a gay club, very  _gay_ club all by himself. 

There are men everywhere. It doesn't register in his mind immediately and he's on the lookout for some hotties, some hot birds until his brain catches up to him and he realizes it  _is_  all guys.

The bar is coloured in neon pink and the bartenders wear no shirts - the air tastes of sweat and alcohol. Harry sits down on a barstool, ignoring the stares he's getting, refusing to acknowledge that someone just grabbed his bum -his bum isn't even a  _grabbable_ one.

He tries to look natural, pretends for the sake of this  _experiment_  that this is totally  normal. Harry Styles in a gay club on a Wednesday night.

Harry explains this adventure to himself, argues with himself that this is an excellent idea with a very simple logic. He isn't  _attracted_  to guys but what was constantly happening between him and Louis is by definition a “homosexual act”. 

But Harry isn't  _into_  guys – no matter how hot David Beckham still looks or how terribly fit Channing Tatum is. Harry's never fantasised about guys like that, never wanted to be with one to do  _stuff_.

Maybe it's because all those men Harry finds remarkable are of larger  _build_  - have perfectly trained bodies, fantastic faces and great careers, and have achieved everything they've ever wanted in life. Anyone would be, should be struck speechless by Chris Martin, Matt Damon and Robert Downey Jr. But what those guys have is what Harry wants for himself and not for the person he gets with. 

He admires those men – their whole beings, the whole packages they have is truly  _admirable_  but they aren't what Harry is looking for in a partner. 

And the horribly hard question to ask is whether Louis is.

“Oh my pineapple!”

Harry whips his head around and is faced with a familiar Asian face - the Asian waiter from about 2 weeks ago. He's shirtless and sweaty and is wearing low-riding green shorts, a bottle of tequila in one hand, a shot glass in the other. 

“You are not?!” The question confuses Harry.

“You are not  _Harry Styles_! Oh fuck me!!” This confuses Harry less.

“Uh, hi, you're that guy, from that –“

“Yeah, the one that fell over at the sight of you!”

“I really want to apologize for that – I had a rough day that day and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry I rammed you like that.“

“It's fine! It really is. I am clumsy like that and feeling you and Louis Tomlinson that close to me felt  _amazing_!”

“Louis?”

“Yeah, he ran into me just minutes after you did, stormed out of the restaurant. I must be a One Direction magnet like that - and now you're here, in my second workplace!”

“Yeah, New York is a really small city apparently.” The Asian puts the bottle and glass down and leans on his elbows on the counter. His eyes blaze eerily in different shades of orange due to the dancing lights of the club. 

“What's your reason for being here though. It's not like this is your scene?”

“Well, basically - well I'm here because I want to know if I'm - into guys?”

“You're  _gay_?!”

“No, so, well, that's why, I'm here.”

“To find yourself a hot guy to drag home and bend over and fuck into oblivion?”

“That- no – that's not – that -”

“Well, if you were offering than no one would resist you.”

“Last time I saw you, you seemed much more –“

“Straight?” The Asian laughs and Harry joins in, convinced that it's a joke because this guy wouldn't even look heterosexual in his funeral suit. 

“Shy. And not such a crude mouth.”

“Right, right. It's because I feel  _free_ here. In the Flavor you don't have to hold back. It's all guys here. And you know what guys want. Sex. Guys aren't as complicated as girls are. If we want to fuck someone here you walk up to them and say it. Everybody's thinking the same thing anyways, it's always about sex, that's what we crave for. It's easier for gays, so much less effort has to be put into getting laid.”

“I – ehm, I guess.”

“But outside of this club the rules of society dictate our lives. And of course I'm a nervous mess when I see fucking sex on legs, Harry Styles come into the restaurant I work at.”

“And now it's happened again...”

“It's a small gay world.”

“I suppose so... But you're seriously trying to tell me that for homosexuals it's that easy to get a shag? I don't buy it.”

“I could walk up to that hot dude over there, tell him I want to suck his cock and immediately I'd be out back  _sucking_ his cock.”

“Uhm, that's good.”

“I won't, of course. You're by far hotter.”

“Oka-okay. Listen, it's been lovely and all but this conversation is not really –“

“Something you're comfortable with? If you're straight a bit of homo flirting shouldn't bother you.”

“It does though. And it's not because it's gay or straight. You're very vulgar. It's a bit offensive.”

“Sorry. Oh shit, I must be a little tipsy already.” The Asian twirls his hands, trying to indicate his tipsiness and manages to underline his sexuality. “I really am sorry. It's just that – you are  _so perfect_.”

“I'm just a normal guy.”

“With gay problems.”

“Yeah.” They remain silent for a few moments and Harry watches men grind on the dance floor. 

“Oh, look. That's what I was talking about.”

The Asian points to somewhere in a darker section of the club and Harry tries to adjust to the less flashy lights illuminating 2 individuals. They're roughly making out to the rhythm of a remix of Lady Gaga's song about not phoning your boyfriend and hooking up with random strangers instead.

Harry watches the display at the edge of the dance floor, watches the  _action_  unfold. He's somewhat flabbergasted by it but doesn't know what would be ruder – to look away and have to justify himself to the bartender or to continue watching the sexual spectacle. He opts for the second after hearing an approving sigh from the man behind the counter. 

The taller of the two blokes is kissing down the smaller guy's front and unfastens the buttons of tight white shorts with quick and well-trained movements. He gets up from his knees again after nuzzling his face into the clearly aroused lad's dick, and drags them both to an even darker corner of the club. 

Harry doesn't look away when the taller guy bends over, strips down the tiny black thing he's wearing and cries out as the smaller lad pushes his knob into him, into his arsehole. 

It's not the first time Harry has witnessed gay sex – he has watched gay porn before and he has used it to jerk off. But porn doesn't count for nothing – any kind, anything pornographic is meant to do one thing and one thing only – get you  _up_ , so that you can get off. Porn isn't about the story – the viewers don't care whether the two - or more individuals in the porn's story get  _together_  or not, whether they'll get their happily ever after. 

Harry doesn't think the sex he's witnessing right now will lead to a happily ever after either. You never know with hook-ups though - they might surprise you and turn into something pretty great. But they can end rather tragically too – Harry pulls his thoughts away from Caroline Flack before he treads into the dangerous territory of reminiscing about something that has gone so terribly wrong. 

The taller one is pushing his bum back against the thrusts and making the most entertaining sex faces Harry's ever seen. They're going at it fast and precisely – only interested in reading their climaxes and getting closer, closer every time the fat cock of the smaller guy rams into the other, pounds into the smooth arse. The whole ordeal doesn't arouse Harry much – it's too similar to porn, too impersonal. 

“Doesn't do anything for you?” The Asian bartender looks at him curiously. His cheeks are flushed and his lips look unnaturally red, making it seem like he's wearing lipstick. And maybe he is but Harry doesn't ask because the guy is staring at Harry's lips and there's an  _odd_ atmosphere brewing around them.

“Not really. Watching someone have sex isn't really my thing.”

“Mhm, yeah, you're more active.” Harry stares as the Asian inches forward. “So, but you came here to find out if you were  _attracted_ to your own gender.”

“Guys are fit sometimes.”

“That's right... Do you think I'm hot?”

“Well, yeah, uhm, you're really good-looking.”

“Good-looking enough for you to kiss me?”

Harry immediately thinks back to the first round of gay chicken he played with Louis. He remembers it quite vividly now that he's in this club and the Asian bartender is only a few centimetres away. 

“I'll have to chicken out.”

“Chicken out? Like in gay chicken?” The Asian's laugh doesn't affect Harry this time. 

“I'm gay, 100%. You can't play gay chicken with someone who's gay, dear Harry... I'm kind of insulted that you wouldn't even give me a little peck –“

“I would but ... It's not righ- I just can't.” Harry can't and he can't explain why he just  _cannot_. It's no big deal to smooch someone – or maybe it is suddenly, maybe there are reasons that Harry still has to figure out. 

“So there is a guy!”

“No I-“

“You want to stay pure for the fella. I get it! I bet it's  _someone_  from One Direction you've got a thing with.”

“Wha – no, no – I just –“

“You and Zayn make for a really cute and  _extremely_  sexy couple.”

“What? Oh gods, no. No, no, no. That's ridiculous.”

“You fucking Zayn's ass? That is probably the sexiest thing –“

“Please. I love you being so enthusiastic about this but, I would never – with Zayn. Ever. That's just – not right.”

“Sorry, I just. Sorry. I mean...”

“It's okay. But I should head back to my hotel now.”

“Please don't hate me?!”

“I don't, really. I swear, it's just that ... I don't have a clue about anything.”

“Well if you don't know what you  _want_ , then what about the other dude? Try to put yourself in his position – what does he want? It could clarify stuff for you.”

“Or make everything worse.”

“Why would lov-“

“I'll go now - this was great – you're great.” With that Harry runs out of the club, runs from horny gay guys back to his hotel. He doesn't look back once and only realizes he didn't even ask for the bartender's name when his taxi enters the hotel's garage. His impoliteness doesn't impact him much though and he forgets about it altogether when he spots Louis. 

He flings money at the cab driver and jumps out of the vehicle, takes gigantic strides over to Louis and grabs him, bringing him to an emergency exit door and swinging it open to reveal an empty staircase.

“Hi, Harry,  _good_  to see you too. Why don't you just drag me off like a psychopath every day?”

Harry tries to put himself in Louis' place, tries to understand what's going on inside Louis' brain - his face is showing signs of slight annoyance and fear - it's also full of questions. 

“I was in a club just now.”

“Okay, you don't have to tell me that. That's not necessary at all.”

“I didn't meet anyone there.”

“Still not necess-“

“And I didn't shag Fiona, ever.” Louis' expression changes drastically. 

“Ye-Yeah?”

“I've stopped seeing her a few days ago.”

“Okay.”

“Mhm.”

“Sucks for you, man.” The way Louis says it triggers that overwhelming feeling inside of Harry again. It pierces through him and reminds Harry of that unwanted friendliness, that stupid way Louis plays down what's escalating between them right now. 

Harry pins Louis to the wall, Harry's hands hold Louis' wrists next to his head and Harry's mouth is right there, in front of Louis' and it's like back then in England. It's still the same fear, it's still so  _fucking_  scary.

“You want to kiss me. Not like the first time we played. This time you want to.” Louis stares at him, seems to stare right through him. 

“No.”

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

Harry moves forward, he puckers his lips a bit, he leans his head slightly sideways, he feels Louis' against his cheek. His own mouth is barely grazing Louis' but he lightly kisses against Louis' skin and it might as well have been a snog since Harry's body explodes with tingles. 

“Your aim is really off.” Louis speaks the words into the corner of Harry's mouth and they travel into his brain, nestle down with all the other stupid things Louis has said. Harry forms the word  _Start_  against Louis' cheek but the murmur is lost to the world and to himself as his mouth travels over Louis'. 

Harry shuffles forward and their chests are flushed together. He can feel the heart racing inside Louis' ribcage, working violently and trying to escape its confines. 

He draws back to lick his lips and closes his eyes, and he desperately digs through his head to recall if he got this feeling with anybody else, if kissing someone has ever felt so wonderful.

Louis doesn't react to what's happening – he just stands there against Harry, breathing heavily through his nose but after three long seconds he moves his lips a tad, just a nudge to permit Harry, pleading Harry to do more. 

Harry leans forward, tilting his head fully to the side, to his usual snog position and starts shifting his mouth. It's like pressing little questions against Louis' lips and receiving tiny answers. It's so soft and sensual and it's not boring Harry like it normally does. The questions are random and peaceful and the answers are restless and pressing but the kiss works nonetheless. 

Harry pulls Louis' hands upwards, upwards, up and takes both hands into his left, letting his right hand fall down to Louis' jaw. He caresses Louis' cheek with his hand and his tongue darts out to lick his own lips again, swiping it onto Louis' bottom lip as well. 

Louis opens his mouth instantly and kisses Harry's still closed one, leaning his head up and Harry smiles against the kiss. It's difficult for Harry to hold onto Louis' hands above him – they're straining, trying to escape, hoping to grasp at Harry. 

Harry opens his mouth and immediately his tongue encounters Louis'. They both stop for a brief moment, not knowing whether they should proceed in an animalistic fashion or further take this slow route. When Louis encircles Harry's tongue with his own in a sloppy manner Harry decides that speed isn't a necessity. 

He lets his tongue slide on top of Louis' and rubs against it until Louis glides his tongue to meet with the tip of Harry's. It's a sultry  _baile_  and much like dancing nakedly. There's no hiding, not even behind a thin layer of clothing. It's all skin and there's no  _need_  for anything other than  _sex_. Dancing in the nude meant to let oneself completely be taken by their partner and vice versa, to be entirely immersed in the music and the feeling of the other body. 

It's different from the actual act of intercourse though, because there's a part that the dancers can keep to themselves still, a part of their hearts that they needn't have to give up yet. Sex came with obligations and complications and snogging like this is just as good as sex, just as real and _now_.

Louis seems to like this too, loads - Harry feels the growing erection press against his thigh and he starts shifting his leg in slow and measured circles. He moves his right hand back up to the struggling hands of Louis' and pushes them back to either side of Louis' head. Louis is trapped by Harry, entrapped by him and he's not about to be let go. 

The snog gets sloppier, wetter, and almost spastic. Louis moans and moans with every stroke Harry applies to Louis' tongue and he presses further into the younger lad's body. Harry finally lets Louis' wrists go but intertwines their fingers, their sweaty hands. 

Louis pushes away from the wall though and for a horrifying second Harry thinks it might be over, all of it.

Instead he falls back and crashes heavily on his back, on cold tiles with Louis atop of him and the pain in his spine doesn't matter because Louis has moved Harry's hands up above his head on the floor, their fingers still entangled. 

Louis kisses Harry's mouth, his jaw, his neck and he shifts his weight first down and suddenly sits up. Harry watches in absolute awe at the face looking down at him. He's fully stunned by it and his hands lie numbly next to himself even though Louis let them go to grip at Harry's shirt, trailing down to his belt buckle, gripping the metal clasp. 

Harry groans loudly when Louis starts moving his bum in circling motions on his crotch, so loudly. Louis is straddling him and pushing down on his dick and why is this only happening  _now_?

He sits up as Louis' hands slip under his shirt and trace patterns on his abdomen. Louis looks petrified at the movement and Harry wonders if Louis actually thought he'd be thrown off. Harry holds Louis at his hips so he doesn't fall off and readjusts Louis' thighs to fit more comfortably around his own body. And the grinding resumes,  _hard._

Louis' face softens and slackens and he moans and moans with his erection rubbing against Harry's stomach and Harry can feel Louis' buttocks perfectly and he lets his hands wander from Louis' waist, over his hips to them.

They're not kissing now, they're just breathing each other, groaning each other's air in and out. Louis' hands tightly hold onto Harry's belt, a few fingers dipping beyond it, into the black jeans, caressing the skin just above the part where Harry's pubic hair grow thicker. 

Harry feels a shudder run, race through his whole body and he lets out a shaky breath, presses his mouth onto Louis' neck. He bites down on several places, spreading his mark upwards to Louis' jaw. Louis hasn't shaven again – the stubble is strong and Harry realizes it's probably because Louis wants to be a guy, a  _real_  guy - someone who's not being called gay by his best friend. 

Louis is jerking frantically now with his head tilted to the ceiling. He's moaning, whimpering like an animal in mating season and Harry pushes upwards harder for more friction, more, more,  _more_.

Louis' fingers find their way further down his pants and try to grasp, claw, massage his skin to get closer to his penis. The efforts are in vain but still much appreciated and Harry suffers from internal explosions of the most pleasant calibre. 

Harry comes and it's right. It's forceful and slightly painful being encased by clothing but it's definitely  _right_.

“Oh, Har-ry.” Louis' call cuts through the air and his hands slip up and encircle Harry's waist and roam back under Harry's shirt and grip his sides, digging his fingers there. “ _Harr-eh_!”

Harry feels the ripples that shoot through Louis' body with his orgasm, that make Louis' head snap upwards further, make Louis throw his head back fully and shout his name to the ceiling. It affects Harry to see Louis like this, to hear his name like that and it's a good effect. 

Louis' deadweight against him makes Harry slowly lie back – one of his hands still lie on Louis' bum and the other draws cats on Louis' back. His legs are still around Harry's, clasping, holding them tightly together, holding Harry in place. 

But Harry won't leave. He cradles Louis against him who doesn't protest being soft-handled and it's kind of perfect like this. 

“You still want to kiss me.”

Louis' doesn't deny it but simply lifts himself up, hovers over Harry's face and again after three long seconds, places a bantam kiss on Harry's lips. 

Harry recognizes Louis' expression after he pulls away, he knows that look. He doesn't want to deal with whatever is coming now, he can't. The only way for him to figure out what was going on was if he got a bit of time, a bit of this time here with Louis. 

“I'll say it now – I have to say it, like you said.”

“...”

“I'm – I mean, I guess-“

“Please don't. Please just don't say it.”

“What? Wh-What do you mean - Why?”

“Just don't. You don't have to – just live your life the way you always did.”

“...”

“Let's just not, yeah?”

“I want to though. I really wan-“

“No. You don-“

“You don't know me! You don't know what I go through every day of my life. I am gay! I am  _gay_!”

“No.” Louis pushes himself further up from Harry but still hovers above him, in an angst-inducing way. 

“What does  _NO_  mean?! Are you being serious! I just told you something so crucial about myself - I've said it for the first time. I've never even admitted it to myself and you say  _NO_!”

“Yes I did, I said  _no_! Because you're not! You can't be gay!”

“Oh, wow. Yesterday you told me I should say I'm fucking  _gay_  and today you're a homophobic fucktard–“

“Louis.”

“I can't be gay - I wouldn't have expected such a reaction from  _the_  great Harry Styles -.”

“If you're gay then we can't  _play_  gay chicken.”

With that Harry closes his eyes again and doesn't open them until Louis leaves. Once again he's alone and once again he feels like absolute shit, like  _an_  absolute shit. His head is spinning and his world is spinning and Louis doesn't have to be gay. He doesn't have to say he's gay because Harry's not gay. 

They just have to be best friends. That's all Harry wants. All he  _wants_ is his best mate.

All he wants is Louis.


	12. Lesson 12

He hadn’t ever really considered  _it_. It wasn’t something one had to think about, should think about if it was harmful, could damage, destroy many lives.

Liam was giving him stares, odd stares at every opportunity now – like he was expecting Louis to jump in front of a crowd and yell at them to accept his sexuality, tell them all about his  _preferences_. 

Louis didn’t though but Liam still looked at him with judging eyes and when they arrived at LAX Louis felt so uncomfortable in his own skin that he started questioning everything he did and whether it was for the right or wrong reasons.

He varied between ignoring Harry and clinging to his side – he couldn’t find a good middle path. A path on which everyone could walk on, a path that made everyone happy but there was no such thing. 

One Direction were put into a mansion - the size of Bruce Wayne’s manor - located somewhere outside of LA and were tasked with photo shoots, recordings and interviews -  _good_  stuff. Louis was distracted, didn’t  _consider_  saying anything to Harry, to anyone. He lived life to its half-fullest but that didn’t mean his brain stopped thinking about everything though, overanalyzing, spinning in circles.

Time didn’t fly by, but it did  _pass,_  sluggishly and nearly 2 weeks had passed since their last  _incident_  when Harry sought out Louis by himself, without the other guys, just by himself.

“Want to get some fresh air?” Louis had been sitting at his laptop, doing absolutely nothing and craving for nothing, but  _shit_ , Harry just made him  _need_  fresh air - standing there with no shirt on, his necklaces around his neck loosely. The new blue one shone  _magically_ , emitted fucking beauteousness that underlined Harry’s handsomeness adamantly.

“Give me a sec.” Harry trotted out of the room and Louis sat frozen, unmoving, momentarily stunned with his mouth agape, still tasting the words he had just spoken on his tongue, sourly.

Louis spent 15 minutes styling his hair, probably for the wrong reasons, with really wrong intentions but it wasn’t such an uncommon thought to want to look one’s best. What was the point of  _not_  always looking good?

Harry stood on the porch – now fully dressed - the sunset framing his form, the greenery creating an ethereal background for him. There was a glint in his eyes and he shuffled his feet funnily before heading towards the forest on a path that looked very little travelled on.

They walked in silence with Louis occasionally glancing over at Harry. The air was sweet and the lake gave off splashing sounds that harmonized well with the heavy breeze wafting, rushing through the sturdy, thick trees.

Harry looked relaxed, very calm and Louis became submerged in the beams of uncomplicated easiness that the younger lad radiated. Louis let his arms swing carelessly, effortlessly at his sides and tried to ignore the urge to grab Harry’s hand in his own. Instead he settled for glimpsing at their hands in reachable proximity but he didn’t act on the tension he felt build up, boil up further.

It felt good to imagine what it’d be like to take a stroll with their hands intertwined but it was best to keep it in his head, to keep everything locked up, to lock himself away. He could pretend, he could pretend for all eternity but that wouldn’t change a thing.

“We’re here.” Harry’s voice sprung through the woods, jumping off the trees and the ground and right at Louis. A small rowing boat sat at the shore of the lake.

The turquoise water sparkled iridescently, stupidly beautiful and Harry awkwardly climbed in the boat. He could have slipped and fallen in the lake and it would have been the most natural thing for him to do – it left Louis impressed he didn’t though.

Waves rode away, breaking and creating new ones, which broke again, creating new and smaller ones, which crashed again and Louis escaped his trance and slid into the boat. He sat himself, placed his bum on the wooden plank opposite Harry who gleamed with the brightest of glees.

“Take an oar and let’s set out to sea! You decide where this journey will take us,  _Captain_  Louis!” Harry moved side to side, playing with their balance excitedly.

Louis simply laughed because he had no other reaction at hand, he couldn’t come up with anything other than happiness around Harry. He didn’t comprehend what they were doing or why, or anything but he was happy to be here, with Harry.

Rowing was easy and the two of them, each with an oar quickly made it far away from the plants growing viciously in the shallower water, away from the little dock, away from the shore, earth, from civilization.

Harry retrieved a miniscule box from his pocket, his hand digging deep to remove it from its holding place, his body dipping backwards to reach it in his cramped trousers. Louis stared as it opened with a faint pop and this was the moment every girl dreamed of, when Harry Styles popped open the ring box and proposed and marriage and kids would follow.

“Would you do me the honour of having a praline with me?”

Louis reached forward, grinning dumbly because yeah, he really did. His hand quivered only a bit as he chose a heart-shaped nougat treat.

“Thought you’d like something sweet. This diet they’ve put us on has to stop.” Harry munched one of the other candies from the casket zealously.

A flock of birds passed over their heads, flying in the same formation that fish swam together. They flew lowly, grazing the tips of the trees, indicating that the weather would take a turn for the worse.

“Is ... Is this a – a date?” Officially the most ridiculous thing Louis had ever said. No need to keep tabs anymore, this was the winner.

“Wouldn’t be our first.” Harry’s smile was larger than life.

“Wha-“

“I mean, if I counted correctly this is probably our 300th outdoor date and I feel like it’s about time you started  _putting_  out. How much does a guy like  _me_  have to do to get your pants off?”

The boat started rocking dangerously as Louis let cheery laughter roll out of his mouth, out of his heart – because Harry was funny,  _so_  funny.

“Not much. You’re making it really difficult to not just give myself over to you willingly.”

“Your insincere flattery won’t make me rip off my clothes for you.”

“What will?”

“Hm, you saying that I have the nicest piece of face in the whole wide world?”

“You definitely do.”

“Then say it.”

Louis smiled at Harry’s expression. It was a mixture of chuff slyness and genuine fondness and Louis found it to be quite  _adorable_.

“You have the most magnificent piece of face in the whole world – second only to mine.”

“That is so arrogant of you. You can’t even give me a real compliment.”

“You’re just jealous of my prettiness.”

“I’m jealous of your bum.  _That’s_  the truth.”

Louis almost felt flustered, nearly forgot how to not throw himself out of their boat.

“You’re right. That’s a blatant  _lie_.”

One of Louis’ hands held the edge of the boat and if he moved fast enough, he’d be in the water and could swim away and not endure whatever mean outburst Harry had in store for him this time.

“I love your bum but I don’t want it for myself. I couldn’t stare it all day if it was on my backside.”

Louis was definitely flustered now, confused too - why was Harry messing around like this, why was Harry his normal charming and wonderfully nice self and didn’t just tell Louis to un-gay.

“I broke up with Eleanor.” The words fell between them, lay at their feet and Harry got that look, that look full of pity and understanding and with an offer to help in any way he could.

“Why?”

Louis was instantly annoyed by Harry’s attempt to console him, by his kindness and by that smile and that face filled with concern, that body that leaned forward, those hands that clasped together, those fingers that twisted and brushed against each other.

“Don’t you love her?”

“No.” All salvia had disappeared from Louis’ mouth, and Harry was still  _Harry_  and what he said days ago shouldn’t, didn’t matter. Harry was the only one that Louis forgave so easily, the only one.

“Huhn.” Harry smiled more, his smile really widened and he was grinning and reached out of the boat and splashed water at Louis – who shrieked.

“The next person that you’ll set your sights on is very lucky.” Louis had never had his  _sights_  on Eleanor - it just wasn't right. Louis splashed water back at Harry – who laughed.

“You have to choose wisely though. Best someone the fans will  _love_  as much as her.”

“I’m absolutely baffled that you’d suggest me choosing someone unworthy.”

“I’m just looking out for you. Wouldn’t want you to get your little heart broken.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, loads. But do not worry for me, I shall find myself someone absolutely fantastic.”

“Unless the fans get mentally unstable because of your relationship, it’s completely pointless in my opinion.”

“Oh, come  _on_.” Louis loved that grin on Harry’s face. “Now you’re clearly referring to  _Larry_.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, you’re so conceited.” Louis flipped his hair and readjusted it with well-trained hands.

“I’m not self-absorbed at all! I make up only half of the couple. The other guy is really essential for its success too.”

Louis didn’t believe that this was flirting, he didn’t fool himself into thinking this was anything but platonic teasing. It sure was a tease, Harry sure was – with that not-quite V-neck T-shirt and with those low- _low_  sagging black trousers and that cute joy on his face.

This wasn’t  _flirty_  behaviour because actual flirting entailed some touching.

Oh, but, yes,  _of course_ – Harry had to put his hand on Louis’ forearm now. All movement halted, the earth ceased to turn because this could be called flirty behaviour and Louis wanted it to be. He wanted to delude himself into thinking that Harry and he were flirting, wanted to call it that.

The boat floated in the water, lilies floated around it and Louis was thankful, really thankful when Harry took his oar again and they made it back to dry and damp land and Harry’s intense scent was overshadowed by that of the forest's.

The walk back to the mansion was strained and weird and Louis wanted to laugh and run away but he didn’t. He let his hand swing close to Harry’s and had no choice but to accept the fiery tremors coming from being near Harry, from being alone with Harry.

But why should he  _accept_  it, why should he allow these annoying emotions to win.

Louis threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders and Harry slouched downwards, making the height difference less of an issue. An arm came around Louis’ hips and Louis released a content sigh because this was as it had always been and how it could  _not_  continue to be.

They made it back to their house in their respective two pieces and stood in the living room, stared at each other and Louis started feeling giddy and gormless.

“So...”

“Hm?” Harry gave Louis that adorable quizzical look.

“What should we do?”

“We could play some Playstation.”

“Yeah, let’s.” Louis was glad, really glad that Harry wanted to play on the PS3, really  _glad_  he didn’t suggest something else.

“Louis.” He spun around - frightened that they’d have to play Xbox instead - confused by the low tone of Harry’s voice, and Harry stood right in front of him, right in his personal bubble. Louis stumbled back and Harry’s hand gripped his bicep before he could fall. Harry’s other hand snaked around Louis’ waist, resting on his lower back.

“We could play something else too.”

Yes.

“It’s been a little while.” Harry spoke very quietly, only for Louis to hear, only for the two of them to know.

Please.

“Could be fun.” Louis watched Harry’s mouth form the words that sounded like they were a threat to Louis’ existence.

Now.

Harry lowered his head, shuffled his feet funnily again and dug his hands into his pockets, leaned forward and Louis closed his eyes, kissing back immediately.

There was no fight for dominance, no battle of tongues for ultimate control and power – there was just Louis and Harry making out, Harry and Louis.

Harry dragged Louis by the hips, by the lips towards a, someone's bedroom. The snog deepened and intensified in the new setting and the level of lust Louis felt heightened and increased impossibly and Harry was the only one to make Louis feel like this, so great, so free.

It wasn’t like Louis wanted to throw away everything, his life, his sanity but Harry was  _kissing_  him.

Louis didn’t even try to convince himself that the kissing, that only the physical attention made his heart clench, his spine straighten, his hands tremble, his penis twitch. It was  _Harry_  that did that.

Harry rubbed his body against Louis’, peeled Louis’ shirt off, flicked open the button on Louis’ chinos.

This time Louis couldn’t have this opportunity taken from him, not again, and he undressed Harry, nipping at exposed skin haphazardly and rather weakly, but doing it. And loving it - getting Harry out of his clothes. 

The reasons didn’t matter, the reasons for what was happening were pointless because Harry was naked now and Louis was also, and Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him backwards falling onto the bed and Harry, Harry, Harry was on top of him, snogging him deeply and ferociously. Louis poured his whole being into right now, right now with Harry.

Louis soon realized that he was lying there motionlessly, that he was not doing anything but feel Harry lick his nipple, blow air on it and repeating that on his other one. It was quite the extraordinary thing - having Harry’s hands and tongue on his chest with Harry probably hearing his erratic heartbeat, knowing what was going on inside of Louis.

He took lethargic intakes of breath that didn’t seem to provide his lungs with anything to work with.

Being a virgin and never having had sex with anyone had never defined Louis because he had always lied about it and told everyone he had fucked, shagged lots of girls already. The lie was maintained easily since he didn’t have to prove himself with a sex-tape.

To keep his alibi  _completely_  intact he told his mother he had slept with a girl once he spread the story to his friends when he was 15. He had no idea how he got so wrapped up in ensuring that his fictive sex-life was  _perfectly_  set-up. Harry said it was fine though. Harry had told him that sex wasn’t that great and even though Louis could tell that was a painfully plain lie, Louis appreciated it much.

Harry was the only one he ever told about actually being a virgin, the only one he had told that he wanted his first time to be special, the only one that knew everything about Louis.

When Harry pushed in, it hurt but Louis focused on  _the only one_. The only one he wanted around when the world turned to crap, the only one he wanted to see when Manchester United didn’t win the Premier League, the only one he wanted to take with him to a deserted island, the only one who knew how to brew his tea properly, the only one to make Louis’ heart stutter and break down when he hugged him, touched him, more so when he  _didn’t_ touch him, and even when he only thought about him.

Louis’ hands glided through Harry’s hair. There was sweat everywhere and Louis pulled Harry’s head down to lick a trail of sweat from Harry’s neck, replacing it with his own sticky spit. Harry’s hand on Louis’ dick was stroking gently and Harry’s hips were rocking  _tenderly_  and Harry’s other hand was digging into Louis’ hipbone.

His first time was supposed to be this freakishly consummate whirlwind that would make his whole being fill with renewed energy and a fresh gust of air should spread through the atmosphere and Louis would be  _happy_. His first time wasn’t like that though. It wasn’t like a Disneyland rollercoaster – it was like a rollercoaster that had gone off its rails, and was spiralling entirely out of control, shooting off to outer space. And beyond that. 

Louis arched his back, curving it violently and he let out a very strangled and wretched scream of pleasure. Harry knew it wasn’t pain, he knew what he was doing because he started thrusting, perfectly.

It was so hot. Louis’ body burned and he was  _connected_  to someone. Louis gave up on thoughts, on his brain and on  _fucking_  everything. He only cared about the penis moving in and out, in and out, in and slowly out and slamming in and pulling out and gaining speed.

He only cared about the hand pumping his cock at an unsteady pace, the changing grips of that hand touching at different parts and the changing angles of that dick pushing into him, further, further, more, more. Louis only cared about that face above him, the eyes staring down at him, the lips jittering, the person who was  _fucking_  him.

Harry was a sex god. He had come down from the Olympus because the other gods couldn’t handle him. He had decided to live in England and audition for the X Factor and had now chosen Louis. Harry had chosen Louis to experience his  _skills_  now and Louis had to shut his eyes, he had to stop idolizing Harry and no longer seeing Harry made him  _feel_  so much more,  _get_  the full of extent of what Harry was.

Louis moaned and he felt like he was vibrating with pure bliss. The bed was shaking and  _oh my gods_ , Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry.

“Please.” Harry stopped his movements and Louis gasped, and he was still burning all over, was still on fire.

“Open.” Harry’s voice was so rough and gruff and throaty and insane, and Louis’ dick twitched in Harry’s hand.

“Your.” Louis let one of his hands roam downwards from Harry’s hair, looped it past, under Harry’s arm and made it rest between Harry’s strongly muscled shoulder blades. Harry’s arm left his hip and settled into the mattress by his head – it was the left one, of course it had to be that one, the one with the tattoos. He groaned and hugged Harry closer, their chests didn’t touch but electric shocks flitted between them, raising the hairs on Louis’ arms as Harry’s necklaces nudged against his skin. Harry grunted when Louis started moving his hips in jerky circular motions.

“Eyes.” Harry sounded perfect, perfect, fucking perfect and Louis would never deny him anything because Harry wasn’t denying Louis this perfect sex, perfect first time. Harry always did what Louis wanted and Louis wanted sex. He hadn’t understood how much he had wanted it, how much he wanted this  _perfection_  happening.

Louis unsqueezed his eyes and chocked fabulously, sucked in a whiny breath. Harry was giving him the most sex-filled little smug smile-smirk Louis had ever seen on him. It broke everything inside of Louis and rearranged it correctly again, everything that was wrong was right now.

“Oh, H-Harry. Fuck.” One corner of Harry’s mouth tugged upwards, a dimple sprang out and Harry’s eyes closed a little before burning into Louis’ again.

Yeah, this was definitely too amazing. Louis would die. He couldn’t even do anything. He couldn’t  _even_.

Harry was the only one.

Louis gripped at Harry’s hair and clawed at Harry’s back forcefully. They didn’t break eye-contact, they didn’t break contact at all.

“Fuck, yes – Harry, Harry!” Louis wished he could keep going for longer. It might be masochistic, pure torture to try to endure more of this overindulgence but it was  _so_  good. Harry started grinning sloppily and a low chuckle erupted from Louis in response. So good, so good, so good, so Harry.

Louis came and his body short-circuited, all his nerves unattached themselves from each other and Harry stole whatever he could, took whatever he found whilst they were broken and Louis knew he’d be left with nothing but Harry’s traces in his brain, his being, his  _heart_.

“Harry,  _Ha_ -rr _eh_!” Magma ran through his veins and his hands turned to jelly, dropped down as waves of incredible zest drowned everything, and really nothing at all. Louis’ body clenched together, his chest, his bum, his heart. His ribcage and its insides hurt but it wasn’t bad, not really. It was a scalding feeling to be so overwhelmed.

He really didn’t care though because Harry’s tongue shot out, licked between his lips and Louis was mesmerized by the gasps and the tiny seizures taking place on Harry’s mouth and face.

“Lou _is_.” His first time wasn’t supposed to be with a guy. It wasn’t meant to be a guy who fucked him in the arse and who filled him with sperm. And it wasn’t like that. It was Harry coming right now. 

And now Louis was no longer a virgin. Well,  _wow_.

Harry was panting down at Louis, their eyes locked and Louis really couldn’t resist. His desire to kiss Harry, to  _be_  with Harry was present, alive but when he did, when their lips touched and heat spread there was no reaction. Louis tried to coax Harry into doing something by moaning desperately, pathetically.

Harry pulled back, and out.

Louis had to make an immense effort not to cry. His bum stung and Harry laid down next to him and the game was  _over_.

“Don’t leave.”

“Same goes for you.” Harry’s retort was so casual. Fuck.

Louis wondered how many times Harry had left right after having sex, how many times Harry had had sex, and with how many people, how many one-night stands? If Harry left immediately after one-night stands or whether he stayed the night with the girls. Did he cuddle with them, let them snuggle up close to him or did he prefer his personal space when he was spent and satisfied. Did he clean up after or did he stay clinging sticky and sweaty to the girl whose world he just  _rocked?_

Louis didn’t  _actually_  want to know because he could never compare to those girls. He was the best mate not the  _lover_.

“You okay?” Harry’s was still so rough and gruff and throaty and insane.

“No.”

“Me either.” He looked to his side and Harry was looking at him, with drenched lust, with greedy and sated desire. Louis noticed Harry’s hand tickling his stomach airily and he grabbed it because it was meant to be grabbed.

Louis held Harry’s hand as tightly as he dared to. There was some shifting and Harry’s head lay on Louis’ shoulder suddenly and he felt crushed under the lithe weight. Once he relaxed a little, so did Harry and the mop of hair rested more comfortably on Louis’ skin. Warm breaths were blown at Louis’ neck and he shivered because it was still so hot.

Minutes and more minutes passed before Louis turned his body and adjusted it with his back pressed against Harry’s front. It was sexual, positively but they both ignored it and Louis pulled their entangled hands onto his chest and Harry’s head nuzzled into his neck, warmly.

It was wonderful and it felt like this belonged, this closeness belonged in the world. There was nothing wrong with this closeness, it was marvellous and Harry’s scent was stronger than ever now.

“Night.” Louis sighed fondly and revelled in the dreaminess of Harry’s murmur and what it did to everything.

“Goodnight.” Harry kissed Louis’ jaw and Louis would never learn his lesson. He would never learn to do the right thing - not to do  _it_ , not to be in love with Harry. 


	13. Lesson 13

The sushi, maki and desserts  _run_  on the lower of the two small conveyer belts. Harry snatches another plate with pork dumplings from the upper and shoves them into his mouth immediately, chewing thoroughly on the spicy morsels. He watches Louis examine his remaining shrimp carefully before gobbling it and aiming his gaze back at Harry.

“About yesterday…”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” Harry waits a few moments but Louis doesn’t seem to be able to come up with anything else to say. A waiter passes their table and Harry throws his hand up, making a money motion. Louis’ eyes follow his hand’s movement and Harry can see Louis swallow, can see the muscles in his neck tremor.

“I hope you liked it.” Harry tries to put a genuine smile on his face and not cringe at the stupidity of his own words.

“Oh, uhm, yeah,  _fine_  – was fine.” Louis pierces a California roll with his chopsticks – his other hand scratches at his neck.

“Fine?” The roll falls off the side of the tiny red plate and lands on the green marble table after Louis pokes it too hard. Hands scramble to put the maki back on its plate.

“No, I mean, it was – it was…” Louis stops his attempt at cleaning and resumes clawing at his neck.

“That bad, huhn?” The older lad scratches at his neck more viciously – red marks start spreading over love bites.

“No, ehm, of course not. It was incredible – I mean. Great – it was good.” A wide grin places itself on Harry’s face as he sees the flush on Louis’ skin travel further upwards. Harry makes no additional comment though – whatever he says won’t be good enough, won’t make things normal again.

“For you? I mean, how was it for you?” Louis stares at the empty sake bottle before him as he whispers, keeping his eyes glued downwards starkly.

The waiter arrives with the cheque and glances back and forth between the two of them before handing the bill to Harry - but with an elegant and fast grab Louis stops Harry from retrieving any cash.

“Let’s split it.” It doesn’t matter, it never does. They both have enough money so it’s completely random who pays when they go out to eat, buy groceries or clothes. It seems to be relevant now though – splitting the tab seems like a big fucking deal.

Like a couple thing.

Money leaves each of their leather wallets and they exit the running sushi restaurant with Louis holding the door open for Harry, beaming tentatively, kind of shyly - like he's just been on a wonderful date. 

The van’s already there to pick them up, the driver looks immensely annoyed already, the tension between Harry and his best mate is already too thick, too heavy, too real.

“I want you to be happy.” That’s the start of the speech Harry came up with this morning, the speech he scripted in his head when he woke up his morning, the one he edited all day long.

“You know I support everything you do – as stupid or dangerous it might be.” Harry inspects his fingers – long, large, whitish.

“And I know you can be  _really_  happy when you find the right person – the right guy.”

Louis is looking out the window – his eyes follow what flashes by, follow the rows of houses, homes and people unaware of them, who are unaffected by the simmering atmosphere in this car.

“So let’s leave yesterday behind and move forward. You can’t keep being who you are hidden and you have to move forward.”

“You? Did last night involve only  _me_? What are you even trying to say? What does this crap you’re spewing even  _mean_?!” There was no wonderful  _date -_ Louis understands this now. 

“It means it’s time to move on from denying yourself what you want and to stop insisting on using me to get it.”

“Using you? What? I’m not usi-“

“You wanted what happened yesterday – you wanted to have sex – you wanted to have gay sex – and you won gay chicken, so you got it.” Harry’s speech ends in a rough manner intentionally – what needed to be said, was dealt with in a few scarce words.

“Come again?” Louis’ eyes empty further, his expression deadens – he looks  _pale_.

“You won the game – overall. It ended when you admitted to being gay. And the winner gets - he receives something in return. I took the liberty of  _giving._ ”

“Because I was begging for it?” Harry looks at his white Converse. His thoughts start intertwining, begin to form unpleasant chaos in his head. The car comes to an abrupt stop and Harry’s mind reels to this morning’s occurrences, pulls them in from the sea, the gigantic ocean of his life to re-examine, to employ him to reconsider.

There’s something about waking up in the morning after having had sex the night before that makes Harry feel like he did something right. He doesn’t think it’s pathetic  _not_  to have sex, not  _at all_ , life is fun without sex but Harry does feel like he has accomplished  _something_  when he wakes up and his sexual frustration isn’t as high as usually.

“Urgh...” Someone groaned next to him and Harry felt the tiredness leave him. He didn’t really want to get up, wanted to stay like this forever, snuggled under the covers, with a warm body near his.

It hit him like a ton of bricks, crushing his organs. His eyes snapped open and he stared  _straight_  ahead, recalling last night’s events.

How he had  _stuck_  his penis into Louis, scared shitless by the connection their bodies made during sex. How Louis had writhed in what should have been pain but definitely was not. How Harry had felt multiple combustions in his heart and soul and brain as he had tried to make Louis feel great. How Louis was so hard in Harry’s hand, how Louis had started to rock his hips in that fucking, so  _frigging_  good way and how Louis’ arse was  _so_  phenomenal. How all of it was so  _perfect_.

“Urgn...” Louis groaned again, shifting about and cuddling Harry’s arm, softly. Lying there in the nude, with the sun seeping in through the curtains, Harry felt satisfied but guilty as hell.

The light turns green up ahead and the van jolts forward. Harry tries to tell himself that he didn’t actually have intercourse with his best friend, that he didn’t love every single moment of the experience.

He hates himself for  _giving in_  to Louis, for deciding Louis wants  _him_  as a prize to explore his own sex.

“No. You weren’t.” Harry finds his voice to be on the verge of breaking, croaky.

“Well I’m really glad that I wasn’t some one time shag for you but a debt you were obliged to pay up. Cheers,  _mate_.”

“You know I don’t have one-night stands.” Assumptions are made on both sides apparently. Harry feels it’s truly regrettable when misunderstandings arise – it’s not easy to untangle the ropes of misconception when it comes to  _bedroom_  issues.

“Do I? I never cared for your sex life. I don’t want to listen to your exploits.”

“Because I have none. I slept with only –“

“Shut up.” And Harry does – there are no words that  _are_  good enough.

He’s suddenly reminded of something. It’s one of those random memories that bounce up and down in one’s brain, obnoxiously alerting every nerve in one’s body that it’s something not to be forgotten, that the body and the brain won’t let slip but force to be held onto.

It was the first time Harry had seen Louis not behave like a silly fool. It was a long while ago, back in the  _olden_  days and Harry doesn’t remember why, he can’t recall the exact circumstances. But the feelings of that moment are still there, still tender and precious. Harry sighs as he rubs at his left wrist. The words inked there don’t come off and neither do the little tingles in his ribcage from remembering something he doesn’t actually remember.

“You’re just as gay as me. You – I know you, you liked it.” Louis' un-tenderly, harshly spoken words stab Harry's brain and bring him back to his messed up situation. 

All the way to the studio in the 31st floor of their recording company’s building Harry mulls Louis’ words over in his head though. When the steel doors close behind them; they find themselves faced with a pile of thousands of photos. Appropriately-sized pictures with all the members of One Direction on them lie scattered across a wooden table.

Louis sighs dramatically as his eyes dart over the work they’ve ahead – he lets himself fall into a seat and winces very visibly. So much even that Harry can barely keep his instinct from taking over and ask what hurt his posh bum.

It’s a good bottom, and a nice face – Harry looks Louis up and down like some sort of expensive piece of meat that he wants to devour but that’s just too pricey. 

He’s attracted to girls – an established fact. He likes their womanly parts. He likes their personalities more. He likes Louis’ most.

Harry had enjoyed last night’s activity. It was sex after all – is the casual retort he needs to stick with, has to repeat to himself over and over again.

It wasn’t just sex though, it hadn’t just been that – and it being gay mattered so little right now. It was  _Louis_ , his best friend that he had  _intercourse_  with – that seems like a big deal.

“You won.” Harry’s attempt at sounding confident fails, his attempt at convincing Louis of his rightness seems meant to be doomed.

“Excuse me?”

“What happened, it happened because you won.”

“Why are you talking about this again?”

“Since it was a game and you won, and I lost –“

“Is that what you’re trying to tell yourself? That I made you?!” Louis’ up and storming towards Harry, invading his personal bubble, standing in front of him, speaking in his face.

“No. I  _assumed_  you wanted to –“

“Are you being serious? You thought I deserved to win a  _sex lesson_?” Louis’ glaring at Harry, fuming, flipping his hair, huffing.

“Louis.”

A hand shoots upward and Harry is pretty sure he’s going to get punched or slapped or somehow hurt but it’s more painful than that.

It’s a kiss.

Louis’ hand grips the fabric of one of his rolled up, pinned up sleeves and pulls Harry and their lips meet. Surprise and agony mash together and Harry can’t react, reciprocate, he really  _cannot_ , must not.

But he does anyway because fuck, he feels his heartbeat increase, can hear its anticipation, feels his chest become impossibly small because his heart grows too big for it, enlarges to the point of tearing.

Louis’ arms encircle his neck fluidly, twirling the hair on Harry’s nape around his finger in a familiar and natural manner and Harry’s hands grip at Louis’ hips. The sunlight is streaming heavily through the glass panels.

“I’m not using you.” Louis’ voice is higher than usually – really squeaky when Harry rubs his thigh between Louis’ legs.

“You’re not.” It’s not a question – it’s what Harry demands of his best mate, what must be.

“And I’m not the  _only one_  liking this?” Louis throws his head back and their mouths disconnect with a plop. Harry grinds his leg more vigorously against Louis’ dick. The older lad is hard already – Harry drops to his knees.

The blue shorts and purple briefs Louis wears come off instantly and the question still hangs in the air around them when Harry opens his mouth wide, his tongue hanging out and takes Louis’ knob-head in.

“Ha – Ha – Harry, fuck.” Hands find their way into his hair again and Harry hollows his cheeks as he pulls, sucks Louis’ cock inside his mouth – Louis moans, kind of starts to shake and Harry makes sure to push him against the table, steadying him, controlling him.

The groaning intensifies as Harry presses his head forward – his nose completely fills with musky sex smells and sucking sounds travel into one ear and out the other. It’s unlike an outer-body experience – it’s more like Harry fits into a delicate painting, like he’s been drawn into it after it was already declared as finished only to find out that he actually belonged in it all along.

He slides Louis’ penis out again, wetly and wraps his mouth back around it. He concentrates on the way it  _is_ , the way it wants to be treated, the way it makes Harry want to  _crave_ more.

“Was ages ago – you ate a bana-anana-ana, very obscenely.” Harry lets Louis’ penis slip out and holds it with one quivering hand, licking up its side, eyes closed.

“I was, was all prissy after. Sorry bout that.” His unused hand opens his own fly and Harry starts stroking his erection, wanking with his tongue on Louis’ knob. Wasn’t planned this way.

“Actu-ally, I got really hard back then.” Harry snorts, laughs and looks up at Louis – their eyes lock and Louis gasps. His whole face reads as sex and shock, his mouth hangs open wide. It’s disbelief Harry recognizes on Louis’ face as well – and Harry wonders if it’s really such an alien thought that he somewhat likes to suck Louis’ dick. It might be but this isn’t the time to come to terms with giving blowjobs – it’s the time to just do it.

Harry tries to reign in his smirk as he tries to deep-throat Louis, all the while  _trying_  to keep eye contact – he can see Louis trying not to scream, beg for more. Life and its  _trials_.

He pumps himself lazily, focusing on rolling his tongue, moving his mouth sideways, bobbing it less weakly with every jerk he gives his own penis.

“Fuck – why- how can you.” Louis closes his eyes, trembling with his whole body, his hands now hovering near Harry’s head, twitching.

He grins around hard, long, thick penis when Louis moan-squeaks and Harry raises his precome-covered hand up, up, up – he pushes his index and middle finger in.

It’s tight, really lovely tight. It pleases Harry to know Louis’ arsehole is  _untouched_  – he’s never been with a virgin before. He’s never been with a guy before yesterday either but thrusting his fingers in and out, in-out, in, in, in, in-out, and seeing Louis mewl and trash, flail his arms around before gripping Harry’s hair, made the younger lad feel quite  _swell_.

And Harry remembers.

The first time Harry had seen Louis not behave like a silly fool. It was the first time Harry had been unable to keep tabs on his  _instincts_  and he had told Louis he  _loved_  him, with all his being. Their room had gotten all serious and scary, really grave - but when Louis returned the words, his face wore genuine affection and the jokester was momentarily gone.

Harry had been overjoyed by the fact that Louis loved him back, that their friendship was that fantastic. But what were their feelings today, right now? The question is kind of a big deal.

The cock-sucking, the fingering, the weather, the moaning, the air-conditioning, the groaning, the  _plants_  in the room, the hands beginning to caress his scalp, skid through his hair – it’s all too intense, too overwhelming for Harry and Louis opens his eyes again and they’re fully clouded. Harry  _halts_.

He gets up and lets go of Louis entirely and the angry whine that escapes Louis mixed with true terror is comical.

Louis puts himself together though and stumbles away from where Harry was kneeled, was just blowing him. His penis is standing upright and glistening like a stupid disco ball – Harry watches it leave.

“Let me suck you off at least. Leave me hanging, okay, but let me, let me do something.” Harry doesn’t understand Louis’ words – distracted by taking his own clothes off, by corning Louis against the large windows, by racing thoughts that want to make it to the finish line, the end.

Harry’s hands grab around Louis and pat, fondle Louis’ bum – because it’s  _supposed_  to be done – before kissing Louis, snogging Louis,  _frenching_  Louis, grinding against Louis, lifting Louis up, pressing Louis against the glass, positioning himself for entering  _Louis_.

Louis’ legs are wound around Harry’s waist, his arms hold onto Harry’s shoulders and his mouth is working on filling Harry’s mouth with an interesting flavour. Wasabi-Louis.

The hands on Louis’ arse, thighs, legs, whatever Harry can grab at, nearly lose their hold and his knees buckle, almost make him topple down when Louis lowers himself down – just a tad.

“Do... your... best.” Louis pants, puffs, breathes air, energy right into Harry’s system, life, existence and why the fuck not give Louis  _everything_  – why not let Louis have it  _all_.

Harry begins to  _fuck_  Louis – forthwith he experiences  _bliss_  – it’s sloppy, it’s hard, it’s precise, it’s fast, it’s mental. Skin slaps together, Louis’ penis hits Harry’s stomach rapidly, repeatedly. Louis’ back is flattened against the glass and Harry looks at LA beneath them. How many people can see two guys shagging in the window up here, how many care?

It doesn’t matter who cares – nothing matters but his dick inside, fucking Louis, making them both feel pure ecstasy.

It shouldn’t be temporary, this shouldn’t be a fleeting adventure – Harry readjusts the angling of his upward  _pounding_.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Louis’ bum clenches, Louis’ legs clench around Harry’s waist, Louis’ expression  _clenches_  as he yells and Harry’s covered in Louis’  _gravy_.

Harry forces his lips onto Louis’ as he bucks his hips forward and up, coming forcefully – Louis’ riding out his orgasm and everything feels so  _good_.

“Louis.” He whispers into Louis’ mouth – he can hear the name within his skull, reverberating and alerting his every cell of the older guy, of having pressed his chest again Louis’ red T-shirt, of the thundering hearts. Two heart beating not as one but trying to out-run each other.

“I’ll get, off, up, I’ll –“ Louis heaves himself upwards, digging his fingers into Harry’s skin and sperm leaks out of him, lands on the carpet – Harry kisses Louis again.

It’s difficult to hold Louis up anymore at this point – exhaustion is settling over them and it’s a lazy and languish kiss. But Harry doesn’t want Louis gone, doesn’t necessarily want to ever change positions – he could get used to this, could get comfortable eventually.

“Mhm.” Louis dominates the kiss, leads Harry’s tongue in a whirlwind of salvia and cautious pecks of lips. That’s what actually makes Harry’s heart implode, break and he hauls in a sharp breath at the pain, at the strength at which his heart boils up and combusts.

“No, really, I’ll –“ With what seems to be sincere reluctance Louis clambers up, gripping onto the glass behind him and climbs off of Harry. It feels comical once again and Harry laughs as Louis stares down at his shirt – full of jizz. Louis pulls it over his head and Harry takes it, wiping off his own chest with it – Louis watches him.

“Have mine.” Harry’s discarded black T-shirt lies on the ground a few steps away. His black boxers and trousers lie there too. Their work is still on the table, untouched.

“Don’t really like black.” Louis gives him a mildly judgemental look as Harry throws him the top.

“It’s mine. You’ll survive.”

They dress - stealing, nicking glances at each other constantly. The process of putting on their clothes takes longer than normally but once done Louis ruffles and rearranges Harry’s hair for him, to make him look a bit presentable. Hands trail, smoothly wander down to his collarbones and glide further, to and over his abs. Harry smiles at Louis’ bent head, at the hands on his abdomen, his V-line and rests his chin in messy hair, happily - doesn’t seem like a big deal. Not really anymore.

“Thir - sty.” Harry spits out some of Louis’ hair that got into his mouth and takes Louis’ hand to execute the murmured request. He pulls Louis along with uncalled-for strength, making him crash, bump into Harry whilst walking to the door. They snog again and Harry also bites, sucks and licks Louis’ neck.

“You – ack, you know that’s really dumb – to give me those.”

“I’m only ensuring yesterday’s aren’t lonesome.” Harry kisses upwards to Louis’ cheek, pressing a light peck there.

“See - all done.” Louis shoves at Harry’s bare chest and they both cackle like the mugs they are. They start sprinting towards the door and ram each other as they open it.

Zayn’s coming towards them.

He’s walking with his quiff standing tall and a loose-fitting shirt – Harry can’t read what’s on it.

“Hey, Zayn! Oi!” Louis rushes forward and Zayn jumps as he’s ripped out of his dream-world.

“The fuck, Tomlinson. Don’t scare me like that.” He readjusts his sling bag on his shoulder and eyes Harry after getting rid of Louis’ arm around his waist.

“Why aren’t you ever clothed.” Zayn sighs and pushes Harry out of the way before continuing his relaxed stroll towards their  _workroom_.

Harry thinks this over from all accessible sides, from different point of views. Only one significant conclusion comes his way, only way to answer it.

“Possibly because this handsome young  _fellow_  over here always makes me want to strip!” Zayn barks out a laugh and slams the door shut behind him, leaving Harry and the handsome young fellow alone again.

“You’re a twat. Why don’t you just tell him what we just did.” Louis pokes his side and Harry squirms away from Louis’ abusive ways. They laugh, they kiss, they laugh.

Nothing is alright when they encounter Liam and Niall in another hallway though, nothing is okay when Harry realizes Louis and him aren’t alone on this planet, nothing is safe when he feels the tingling chemistry he has with Louis spark more fiercely with every passing moment.

But Harry still loves Louis, so that’s that.


	14. Lesson 14

Louis slapped Harry’s fingers away – the poking was beyond annoying. He glared at Harry and went to stand away from his abuser, next to Zayn who slung an arm around him - Harry eyed that with fading mirth.

The interviewer asked her next question.

“So, you love to rile each other up, right? What kind of things do you do to get into each other’s heads?”

“All sorts. Niall loves to take wet cloths and throw them on our sleeping faces.” Liam nodded his head and gestured wildly with his hands as he answered - Niall shrugged in response.

“That’s quite cruel… Zayn, what about you? Do you do such mean things as well?” The woman gripped her clipboard tightly and Louis could sense her appreciation for Zayn’s entire existence heightening. He removed his arm from around Louis and Harry’s body relaxed, shoulders slouching forward.

“I stay out of it mostly. I’ll pull down Liam’s pants down whenever I can though.” For a fleeting moment a grin appeared on the reporter’s face - Liam crossed his arms and chose not to look at Zayn anymore.

“Louis and Harry do the most messed up stuff. They are the really crazy ones.”

“Is that so?” The interviewer was completely charmed by Zayn, swaying and leaning towards him – he didn’t  _not_  enjoy the attention. Liam huffed.

“Definitely.” Louis responded confidently despite knowing that Liam was in no way fond of having the attention being pulled towards  _Larry Stylinson_  - but it was about time he joined the conversation with some pizzazz.

Louis wondered if playing pranks on each other would feel different now that Harry and he had fucked twice. It was  _only_  two times – although it wasn’t like Louis hadn’t tried to find the right time and place to engage in more  _fornicating_  over the past few days. Harry flicked his tongue loudly as if disapproving of Louis’ horny thoughts that haunted his brain without pause.

There was never a time when Louis didn’t think of how  _it_  had felt and how  _it_  could feel in the future and there was also no moment to really grasp what was happening when Harry  _attacked_.

Louis saw it coming, even anticipated it - the cameras were filming for the whole world to see but Louis craved for  _it_.

Harry’s hands slipped out of his pockets and he readied them, his eyes squinted and his nostrils flared. Harry’s lunge was swift and precise but instead of aiming for Louis’ neck for the classic love bite, Harry smacked his mouth right onto Louis’ - whose eyes shut in surprise and familiarity.

A second, two, three, four seconds passed - Louis managed to push Harry away. Amusement played across the taller guy’s face and Louis couldn’t muster to get hot rage boiling at the sight of that smirk, those sparkling eyes, those hands that slid out of Louis’ hair and down his neck.

The reporter looked perplexed and confused. Liam looked stunned and appalled. Zayn looked bemused and questioning. Niall looked away and yawned. There was no sound but for the heavy puffed breathing of the fat cameraman.

“You two – are in a relationship?” Satisfaction coursed through Louis’ body although it should have been dread. He knew the words he had to say – they were an easily memorable lullaby.

He had to start off by saying that he had broken up with Eleanor a while ago already, that they had drifted apart, that it was a mutual decision, that he was always very close to Harry, that since they were both single they had connected on a deeper level and that they had found each other. That they had been oblivious to the chemistry -  _love_  they had together for all this time and that they were happy now.

“Nah, it’s all good fun. We take a joke too far but we’ll always be best friends after.” Harry’s voice cut through Louis like a flash of kryptonite, like a violent wave of radiation that killed the cells in Louis’ body that knew how to not have a breakdown.

“What we just witnessed looked like a more than friends’ territory. Maybe you should just admit you’re together?” Liam gaped at the interviewer’s words – his head swivelled around to stare at Louis who was about to answer with a fierce nod. It was the only thing that made sense – agreeing, admitting,  _dating_.

“We’re not gay. We’re not dating.  _We’re not_. Just friends, no benefits. That should clear up the rumours once and for all, yeah?” Harry smiled brightly – he seemed genuinely pleased, happy about what was happening, like he had achieved greatness by saying these horribly painful things.

And so it did feel different now – Louis’ heart was racing, his chest was hurting and it wasn’t  _fun_ anymore. Harry messing with Louis’ head, creeping under Louis’ skin wasn’t fun when it felt so tangible, when they had done  _stuff_  behind closed doors and when it was just a game for the cameras now.

He still let a laugh escape his throat and punched Harry in the arm, knuckles hopefully bruising the skin that taunted Louis – he pulled his hand back instantly though, fearing him lingering would be perceived as gay, as bad.

“Well then, Larry Stylinson has been put to rest for good, I guess.” The reporter’s voice was completely monotonous and Harry gave a small thumb up in Louis’ direction. Louis stared at the thumb, the other fingers, whole hand that had made him ejaculate several times already like it bore a desperately needed flicker of hope.

Liam scratched at his ear and Niall looked more uncaring than usually. Zayn was tracing the  _ZAP_ inked on his right forearm and the interviewer was staring at Harry’s junk, Louis noted dully. He in turn glanced at her tits, just to even the score, to get back at Harry somehow.

“There is absolutely nothing between us, I swear.” Louis managed to alternate between looking at Zayn, the woman, Liam and Niall as he spoke.

“Sometimes things escalate because we want to  _get back_  at each other properly but in the end we just bump our fists and call it a day.”

“So you’re not…” Liam was shaking his head as he asked, trying to solve a riddle with no solution.

“Nah, no need to get jealous. You can have me all for yourself.” Louis knew Liam bought it when the apprehension left and a smile crept back onto the warm face. He could practically see the spiteful variables of a difficult equation being omitted from Liam’s brain – Louis and Harry were just goofing around, they weren’t seriously planning on destroying anyone’s career, they were _normal_.

“That’s really sweet of you, Louis. I bet Liam does get quite lonely, what with his recent split from his girlfriend.”

“He cuddles with me often, and Niall makes greasy foods to take the pain away.” Zayn’s voice merged with the static buzz coming from the studio lights and Louis’ attempts at tuning his frequency back to the conversation around him were futile and ended when Louis’ gaze met Harry’s.

Harry was still smiling broadly and Louis’ devastation grew merely by the fact that Harry’s smile was causing him to return a smile. The conflict of his emotions was viciously acrimonious and continued after the interview ended and in the van to their temporary home and up the stairs and didn’t halt in the room that Louis occupied either.

Clothes were strewn across the floor along with empty fast-food containers and half-eaten bags of crisps. Harry found a bottle of Strawberry-Kiwi Fanta under a chair and took a large swing from it, gulping down the liquid quickly.

Louis noticed Harry’s white top riding up, exposing abs and it triggered reality to flood his mind again. His fantasies of a happy life were shattered by the lack of room for imagination Harry’s brilliance left. The sweet manliness that Harry possessed made Louis’ stubble itch – he wanted to rub his face into Harry’s neck and be held for a non-platonic amount of time.

“If you don’t want to go out clubbing tonight, I won’t be too long anyways.”

Louis couldn’t ask why Harry didn’t want to tell the world of  _them_. He also couldn’t just shove Harry against the wall and snog him until he’d be too drugged by his insatiable hunger for Harry to form the question.

Harry threw the 1,5 litre bottle on the sofa which was covered in dirty underwear – most were soiled with come from Louis’ many daily masturbation sessions. His libido was Harry’s fault – Harry should take responsibility and do  _something_. Something that’d make his penis stop twitching whenever Harry as much as moved a hair.

“I mean, I’d be - you know I’d be really glad if you came. Whatever you want though.” Louis watched Harry fiddle with the white fabric of his T-shirt, effectively pulling it over his abdomen.

“It’s your choice. I’ll be back before you know it. Just… yeah.” Harry flipped his hair, smoothing his fringe with slow motions and Louis had to stop himself from mimicking the movement.

There was nothing left to say apparently. Perhaps they hadn’t cleared anything at all last time, perhaps the past week had only felt like something more to Louis but  was really just a bromance.

Or maybe Harry wasn’t ready to come out yet or maybe they were  _fuck-buddies_. Louis was at a loss of words at his spiralling thoughts because the most plausible response to the overall situation was still that Harry wanted to keep things away from others, keep his life private.

Louis had to believe that Harry just wanted to be himself without the complications of the public eye, had to accept this sad option of stupid secrecy. But before Louis could start convincing himself that what Harry had said on camera was all lies and that the anal sex had been in fact quite real and  _fine_ , Harry spoke.

“I -  _truly_  love you.”

There was no comedic element to his words and no afterthought. Harry took a sharp intake of breath, lowered his eyes before casting them up again and holding eye-contact.

Louis had always expected the  _I love you_  to slip out during a shag, or right after, or before. It was oddly significant that it wasn’t linked to sex – the impact was stronger this way and was much less of a careless mistake.

Harry’s face fell and regret started showing when Louis showed no reaction at all - on the outside. He let out a breathy laugh and walked out of Louis’ room, faking a cough.

Louis shivered - a blast of cool air travelled up the stairs. He felt like someone had poured hot oil over his body, and from deep within spiky icicles were piercing against his burning skin.

He spun around, twisting and tripping over his own feet - his brain couldn’t keep up with the rush.

Louis saw only Harry, 2 steps down the stairs, and his tunnel vision narrowed even further as he grabbed Harry, turned him and Louis became aware of how slowly he actually moved, how excruciatingly long it took for him to seal their lips together.

It was a sweet kiss. Soft. Louis nipped  _softly_  and moved his head to the other side, avoiding their noses from brushing and continued to press lightly against Harry.

A terribly sweet kiss.

They weren’t interrupted, they weren’t disturbed and Harry was smiling against Louis’ mouth but they didn’t deepen it. They just left it at that – pure gut-wrenching tenderness.

Louis suddenly laughed – the fact that he was taller than Harry here on the stairs, the fact that Harry was wearing Louis’ blue tight trousers added to the sickly sugary atmosphere and caused Louis to laugh against Harry’s mouth.

They broke apart – both having difficulty suppressing grins. They were both such twats and Louis liked it. He liked it a lot.

“All wankers in the car now!” Zayn shouted in a drowsy voice from somewhere on the ground floor. Harry looked up at Louis who had taken to readjusting Harry’s hair – rather unkindly by ripping his fingers through the gelled hair forcefully. The younger lad leaned up, licked his lips and pecked Louis wetly on the mouth.

Harry evaded being hit by taking a step back and nearly falling down the flight of stairs if Louis hadn’t caught him in a hug.

It was the perfect moment to say it - but it’d be somehow forced and unnatural. The way Harry had said it was unscripted and unprepared. It just slipped out and burst Louis’ perception of the universe, replaced it with love and affection and Harry.

Louis opted for embracing Harry with all his might, with all his heart and hoped he could convey the turmoil within him wordlessly.

Later in the club - where all the birds were getting down low - Louis sat on a barstool with Harry between his legs, leaning his back against Louis’ chest. The other lads didn’t mind because they had gotten the reassurance of nothing going on between them.

Louis didn’t mind either – that they weren’t making out, that they were hiding the true bond they shared. He couldn’t care less because Harry truly loved him and was secretively holding his hand unbeknownst to anyone.


	15. Lesson 15

Louis sat in Harry’s lap.

That wasn’t exactly new but the transition from what had been  _before_  to what was now was a really blurry line, a bridge sunken in fog, a dark and murky alleyway.

As soon as they had got back to their flat in London Harry went for the snog. They hadn’t had any alone time for days and even though Louis didn’t mind, had settled for controlling his libido, Harry couldn’t really anymore.

He smashed their mouth together as soon as the door clicked shut and they stumbled their way to Harry’s room, fell on the bed and didn’t have sex.

They rolled around, wrapping blankets around themselves, becoming delicious human wraps and clawing their way out of the warmth to resume kissing, touching, holding.

Louis ended up wanting to catch a rerun of the newest X-Factor episode, milk tea in hand and Harry didn’t shove him away when he made himself comfortable on Harry’s legs, lap.

Louis’ position, waist was secured by Harry’s arms and the sounds of some female half-decently singing set a delightful ambience as Louis slurped his tea loudly.

“They’ll never actually believe it.”

“What?” Louis tried to keep his eyes trained on his laptop’s screen and not glance over at Harry like a love-struck teenager. 

“Us. We could be caught sucking each other off and nobody would believe it. The fans don’t want to. They don’t  _actually_  want us hooking up – in the end they still want your dick in their vagina.” Harry’s tone wasn’t far from utter casualness, totally composed. 

“Same.”

Harry laughed, chocking on the tea he sipped from Louis’ cup.

“I know you want my dick in your mangina.”

Louis laughed, also chocking on the tea he had attempted at drinking again.

Eventually they’d have to tell – Harry was aware of that. He was well aware of the impact he could make and the damage he would cause. One Direction would suffer from it and it just wasn’t the time to deal with it yet.

Harry wouldn’t betray the other lads either – unless all of them were a hundred percent acceptant of being a British-Irish-gay boygroup, Harry wouldn’t kiss and tell, wouldn’t tell the world.

He knew that it’d be difficult to truly be fully alright with it – they had all worked too hard and too persistently to lose everything, to endure whatever would be thrown at them after their homosexual confession.

“Liam’s going to be a cunt about it...”

“About what?” Louis put his now empty cup on the bedside table – his shirt rolled up and he quickly covered his stomach with his arm.

Liam would be the last to give the okay – he will in the end because he knows what the right thing to do is but for now Liam’s focused on recording, on interviews, on working, on promoting, on living while they’re young.

“About our wedding – tree house wedding. He’ll bitch about it.”

“You’re a complete twat. I won’t watch you walk down the aisle in a fucking tree!”

“But it’d be so bloody genius!” Harry’s face lit up with childish excitement and Louis didn’t exactly  _hate_  trees. He also didn’t hate weddings or marriage but that really wasn’t the point.

“You wouldn’t mind walking down the aisle?”

“We both have to. Does it matter who goes first or second?” They weren’t talking about marrying each other, or choosing not to marry as a sign of protest because so many people didn’t get to wed, didn’t get to be with whom they were meant to be with, didn’t even get to be who  _they_  wanted be - they weren’t talking about apples or oranges. This conversation was about bananas and the fun they brought to everyone’s life.

“Well, the first one watches the second one, so the first one is more of a man...”

“Really now?” Harry whispered into Louis’ ear whilst twisting his body around.

“Yeah.” Louis scrambled backwards, landing in the throne of cushions they had constructed with much difficulty.

“Really?” Harry rearranged his body to lie between Louis’ spread legs, hovering over Louis.

“Mhm-“

Harry pressed his lips against Louis’ and it didn’t just feel like snogging. Nothing felt  _just_  like something with Louis – it was grander and more precious. Kissing Louis felt like a rose opening its petals behind Harry’s closed eyelids, like a sparkling red flower was blooming there, was spreading its colours so that Harry could only see shades of rouge.

Louis was overwhelming, intense and Harry pushed him further into the pile of pillows, his knees shoving Louis’ legs apart, his mind spinning in a hazy, lazy mess.

Harry felt like an animal and he didn’t know how he had become one but all the red in his eyes, all the fire, all the love was exuberantly fulfilling.

“Do I get anything else from winning gay chicken all those times?” Louis’ words rung like the last school bell before the holidays, alerting Harry that he was human, that they weren’t bunnies in mating season.

“You wish - but it was an even score ultimately.” Harry could tell with closed eyes, with his hands under Louis’ shirt, fingers splayed out on Louis’ ribs that there was no other place than here, compromising position than this that the older lad wanted to be in.

“Was it? How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well, the requirements for a win stretch further than the other losing by giving up.” Harry’s voice cracked when Louis shifted to make their arousals meet in a sweet grind, in cutely obscene humping motions.

“So you invented your own rules for an internationally acclaimed game?”

Harry snorted.

“I had to. So whoever, you know first...“

Louis snorted. “Reached their peak?”

“Yep. That’s it – they lost. And if that was still inconclusive, then whoever learnt to be more gay won.”

“Wow, I wish I was offended but yeah... we’re both equally gay, aren’t we?”

Harry smirked and Louis leant up because gay guys like them should kiss, should never stop kissing, should  _really_  kiss.

At some point Louis’ trousers were getting too tight and Harry was making everything feel  _too right_ , so Louis retracted his tongue from Harry’s mouth.

“Too hot.” Louis barely managed to breathe the words out before Harry started licking, nipping at his jaw, blowing cool air onto the wet skin.

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean, it’s a game.” Harry sat up and stared down at Louis – he flipped over and settled next to the subject, reason for his erection, eyeing him curiously. “In which two participants make-out.”

“That sounds like something we could do.” Harry smiled as he traced over the knuckles of Louis’ left hand.

“And no touching.”

“But our mouths touch –“ Harry’s fingers stilled on Louis’ hand.

“No touching or you lose.” Louis gestured down his body, indicating that it was off-limits, that he was so desirable that Harry couldn’t do anything other than crave touching him nonstop.

“That sounds tough.” Harry was the first to admit that keeping his hands to himself was not his strength – but neither was it Louis', so he had a fair shot. 

“And the winner gets to do anything they want to the loser.”

“That’s something I ought to win.” Harry pecked Louis’ lips briefly, readying himself, sitting up, crossing his legs and arms.

“Start.”

“ _Start_.” Louis’ retort hung in the air as he also straightened up, kneeling. 

Harry leaned forward and met Louis in a nerve-wrecking kiss as he found his hand hovering next to Louis’ face. He moved his body backwards, only his head moving towards Louis – who did the same. It felt awkward, clutching their own elbows and shifting their bodies backwards more and more, curving their spines whilst still shoving, clashing tongues together in each other’s mouths.

Louis hummed as he caught Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling at it and Harry made a gurgling sound in return, trying not to laugh.

Harry captured Louis’ lips in his, sucking on them with a wide, opened mouth, making funny whorish sounds. Louis didn’t budge but tilted his head and began making smacking noises as he grabbed his own groin.

The younger lad didn’t notice immediately but once he did he clutched his own crotch instantly, moaning into Louis’ mouth.

Harry resented his hands itching, cramping with pesky greed - he wasn’t about to annihilate his chances at winning but Louis’ actions were crippling, punching holes into his armour, his protection. It had always been this way – Louis just had this aura about him that crept up behind Harry and scared the living hell out of him.

Louis placed one hand at his side and Harry got drunk, hammered as Louis pecked a small kiss onto the corner of his lips, partially on his cheek. Harry put his hand over Louis’, entangling their fingers, squeezing until the heartiness around them turned faintly numbing, wonderful. 

A chuckling sound made Harry blink and suddenly he remembered that loving Louis would always be complicated and weird and exciting.

Harry collapsed onto his back, sighing in need. “Guess I lost.”

“Sure did.” Louis stuck his tongue out, smugly as Harry squinted at him.

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

“Oh, nothing much.... Got any lube though?” Louis’ expression was full of slyness and mischief – Harry felt the hotness of his blood run cold.

“Uhm... yeah. Drawer, on the right.” Harry tentatively pointed in the direction of his clothing shelf.

Louis jumped towards it with a grin, digging around and finding what he was looking for and Harry did feel compelled to flee. He didn’t get up though because Louis  _had_  won, he had the right to smirk like a prick about to give out a round of wedgies or a set of painful nipple twisters.

It was quick work for Louis to undress himself and his face was set in a grimace of concentration and pleasure as he peeled off Harry’s shirt and he definitely enjoyed running his hands over Harry’s nipples.

Harry closed his eyes and hoped that whatever Louis was planning would not leave him completely immobile, paralyzed. Louis took both his hands and something silky touched his wrists and Harry’s brain was too tardy to figure out what was happening.

He put much energy into straining against it but Louis had made sure to properly secure, knot his hands together, against the bedpost with a tie Harry had never planned on wearing anyway.

Louis unscrewed the lube and smeared some on his hands before gripping Harry’s penis.

“What are you looking so glum for?” Harry kept his eyes shut, simply savouring Louis’ hands pumping his dick and casting aside his worries for now.

“Nothing... Just keep going.” Louis snort-laughed at Harry’s muttering, mumbling but squirted out some more lubricant out of the tube and worked, jerked his and Harry’s penis simultaneously.

Harry pulled one more time at the ties that were wound around his wrists, huffing in unwarranted frustration since he was getting a really nice treatment. He had no right to complain and realized that when Louis suddenly climbed over him, kneeled on top of him.

Louis didn’t need to control Harry, didn’t want to see him struggle against his binds but holding Harry’s cock, guiding it in was stellar, galactic – and the green eyes watching him, his every move, made his throat constrict powerfully, made his heart pound unhealthily, made him  _feel_ irregular, supernatural. 

Suffering tied-up as he was, Harry whined, yelped and it was all so majorly atrocious, vile – Harry’s hands wouldn’t come free and he felt over-stimulated from having Louis take his dick in, practically bouncing up and down, arching his back, panting, bringing the sexy  _back_  from wherever it had disappeared to, just bringing it back  _extremely_ well.

Harry threw his head from side to side, his arm muscles flexed and his abs rippled – Louis discovered that this was torturous for both of them. He rubbed his hands all over Harry’s chest, calming the thrashing guy beneath him as he rotated his hips.

Riding Harry would surely be more  _tremendous_  with Harry’s hands digging into his waist and thighs and touching his skin, trailing along his skin, with Harry heaving Louis down and up but Louis could barely handle this, could barely take Harry’s face, body writhing like this.

The sounds that came out of Louis’ throat were primal and a responding moan fell out of Harry’s mouth. Louis started grasping at his own penis when he felt his upper leg muscles about to give out.

“Lo-“ Harry grunted as he bucked his hips upward more quickly, sloppily, desperately. Louis fell forward – face plastered to Harry’s sweaty chest before he could get his arms to lift himself up again and with a trembling effort he sealed his own mouth onto Harry’s.

Louis wasn’t a sappy romantic but he was quite fond of coming at the same time as Harry. Their orgasms escalated and boiled and tumbled into the pits of hell, the Underworld, right down to the core of the earth, through all the layers of dirt that was compressed over the millennia, over all this time and the force of the combustion wrecked its way into their bodies, hearts.

Perhaps it wasn’t  _that_  romantic when Louis’ sperm hit both their faces, when Louis tried to clean it off Harry’s cheek but smeared it down his neck instead, when Louis’ body was still quivering, quaking as he lifted himself up, when Harry’s dick slipped out of him with an odd sound and sensation.

Louis didn’t manage to untie Harry’s hands within the first few minutes after  _that_  – his breathing was too laboured, his brain too muddled. Harry was also still recovering from his highest of highs, shaking from the power of what they’d overcome, of what they had gotten themselves into with no hope of getting out again.

“Never tie me up again.” Harry, finally set free, raised his twitching hands to Louis’ hair and dug his fingers into, through the strands, wanting to memorize every single hair.

“I need to touch you or I’ll die.” He readjusted Louis’ fringe and moved his hands down to Louis’ shoulders, trailing downwards to Louis’ lower back dimples, the Venus dimples and to his sides, gripping Louis’ hips forcefully.

“I don’t want you to die.” Louis was pleased that his voice sounded more relaxed and secure than Harry’s. He felt good – extremely good and nobody, not even Harry himself could take this away from him anymore. The burning heat, the overwhelming intensity, the delirious happiness that they triggered together – Louis would hold onto it and never let go.

“You want to stay with me ... forever, right?” Harry’s words mirrored what Louis thought and he tried not to grind down against Harry in agreement, confirmation of how much he wanted this for all eternity.

“Pretty much. I mean, we  _are_  best mates.” Louis’ words didn’t even sting, stab, _kill_  anymore because they both knew it meant more.

Harry bit, sucked at Louis’ neck, making sure to leave a dark mark there. He ran his fingers over Louis’ waist and up his spine - Louis shivered but didn’t attempt at stifling a gasp, groan as Harry blew on the wet skin from his Adam’s apple to his collarbone. Louis’ mouth was slack and useless – he felt incompetent and unworthy but he snogged, frenched Harry vigorously anyways.

Together they were more than Harry could ever put into coherent words – he loved Louis more than words could describe. A painting – an impressionistic masterpiece that showed how Harry viewed, admired, adored Louis might be able to capture the brilliant emotions that were sparked within him at the mere thought of this bloke that rested atop of him contently.

The canvas would be enormous and it’d have a massive amount of bright colours – reds and oranges and violets and pinks and blues. It’d show Louis amongst a turbulent, furious blast – and Harry by his side, clinging onto him whilst the colours danced boisterously around them ad infinitum.

They could really, properly be themselves when they were with each other – their bond was too perfect, their minds were too complementary and their bodies fit too magnificently against each other.

“We’re soulmates.”

...

**Elsewhere.**

Zayn looks at the ceiling, wondering what trouble Harry and Louis are brewing up today.

“I won’t have to meet Perrie today.”

Liam looks up from his battle – his shiny Lugia is losing pathetically against a Pikachu.

“Didn’t someone say you had to meet publicly at least once a week?” Maybe his Totodile could save him. Liam switches Pokémon, silently apologizing to his weakened Lugia for taking him out already and encouraging Totodile in  _surfing_  and  _slashing_  that yellow rat.

“Apparently PR is caring less and less about Little Mix.” Zayn stretches and shifts closer to Liam to observe how the Pikachu uses  _Thunderbolt_  and almost instantly  _faints_  Liam’s little alligator.

“I really like the song with the wings though – ah, come on! Why is this so difficult?!”

Liam shuts his Nintendo 3DS off in frustration – no use in continuing a lost match. Zayn’s right leg slides onto Liam’s where it rests in a relaxed and familiar fashion.

“I’d let you play with mine but I’m all the way to the Elite Four already – you’d just mess that up for me. I want to enjoy the victory.”

Zayn laughs at Liam’s expression - a combination of annoyance and awe. Liam has never made it past the 8th gym before.

“I’ll let you have it – for a price.” Liam shoves Zayn’s upper body – Zayn hooks his leg more strongly around Liam’s so he can’t fall off the couch.

“What’s that?” Liam turns the TV on as he asks - Zayn pushes himself up on his elbows, eyeing his best mate.

“I’ll think of that later.” They remain silent for a few minutes – Zayn still half-lying on his back and Liam absentmindedly drumming his fingers on Zayn’s upper leg. The cartoon that’s playing has a boy be half-ghost, half-human – he kind of looks like Zayn with that white amongst the black hair. This Nickelodeon show reminds Zayn of Casper, the friendly ghost and how horribly sad that movie actually is - Casper is dead after all. It’s something that slips one’s mind - but that happy round-faced ghost is a  _dead_  kid.

“Want to play something together now? We have Fifa 13?” Zayn wonders if Liam needs the distraction because he is also thinking about how dead Casper really is, about death looming, hiding around every corner. 

Liam sits upright, looking down at Zayn who tries to push himself up further, stretching his arms out but still leaning back.

“I want to win. We could play something else.” There aren’t many duelling games Zayn has a chance at beating Liam in but they could try something new, foreign,  _fun_.

“Okay.” Friendliness radiates from Liam as his fingers wander down, tap along Zayn’s knee.

“You know gay chicken?” Zayn keeps his face indifferent as Liam’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I think so.”

“Let’s do it – I’ll win this so easily.” Liam lets go of Zayn’s leg and twists his body in order to face Zayn – he doesn’t remove Zayn’s limb that’s still slung over his though.

“Not a chance.” Liam’s voice wavers but he presses the words out nonetheless.

“Start.” There’s no time to waste, to let the opponent adjust to the thin line between discomfort and impassiveness. Zayn leans forward, face coming closer and closer, closer. Liam’s hand grips around Zayn’s thigh again, in an attempt to distract the flawless face with light stubble and shimmering eyes from coming closer and closer, closer.

Zayn halts for only a second and quite a few more because of the wreckage of his nerves, expecting the worst from the hand near his dick, expecting Liam to make a bold move that could outshine Zayn’s – he leans in all the way though, murmuring with their lips almost, but not yet connecting, into Liam’s slight agape mouth.

“You’ll lose so hard.” Then they kiss.

...

**The end.**

**Author's Note:**

> readingallaboutit.tumblr.com


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